Uncharted Waters
by zsp
Summary: Post-Season 6. Sequel to "The Second Chance." Mike Pruddy is arrested for leaking top secret documents while in training in the United States. Meanwhile, Martin and Louisa seek help in mending their marriage from a surprising source. Al and Morwenna struggle with questions of commitment, while Bert and Jennifer have problems of their own. Feedback is very welcome!
1. The Spy

**Uncharted Waters**

_Post-Season 6, Possibly some spoilers._

_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _

_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and aren't making any money off it._

Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**  
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**Foreword (by Louisa Ellingham)**

When I was first approached about writing the foreword for this story, I was hesitant. The story covers some serious and not entirely pleasant events in my life and in others' lives. I had enthusiastically helped the author, a good friend of mine, in writing the story. But writing a note to you all, the readers, was difficult, uncomfortable. What would I say?

That all changed today. It's March 5th, St. Piran's Day, the day we in Cornwall enthusiastically commemorate this once obscure patron saint of the Cornish tin miners. Strange inspiration, isn't it?

As I write, partygoers proudly wave St. Piran's flag, white cross on a black field, down on the Platt (our name for the beach-like landing which doubles as a car park at low tide), not far from the stone walls of my own home. For many in Cornwall, St. Piran's Day is just a day of celebration, out-of-tune Celtic music, and parades-or simply an excuse to get sodding drunk. I myself (and my family, if I can rope them into it) may join the festivities shortly, although, as a mother and headmistress of the local school I shall be abstaining from inordinate amounts of alcohol.

But a few Cornish remember the legend behind St. Piran's Day. Piran, the story goes, was an Irish holy man, a pioneer of Christendom at a time when the British Isles were a wild and wooly wilderness under the sway of the mysterious druids and their ilk.

The story goes that the good man fell out with some of the heathen Celts and was tossed off a cliff into the raging sea in the midst of a gale.

Clearly this was a low point for poor old Piran.

Luckily, for him, and for us, the storm miraculously cleared up and Piran floated to the surface-by now having drifted too far from shore to swim back.

What was Piran thinking as he floated and bobbed about endlessly in the Celtic Sea, unsure of where he was headed or what faced him if and when he arrived?

Many of us have had a St. Piran moment, a moment we were headed into uncharted waters, uncertain of what lies ahead.

This story describes just such a pivotal moment in my life and in the lives of those I care about in our tiny, close-knit village of Port Wenn.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have.

-_Louisa Ellingham_

**Chapter 1: The Spy**

**United States Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, United States**

Private Michael Pruddy couldn't look the man in front of him in the face.

"Private Pruddy, do you know why I'm here?" The fit, well-built yet gentle young man nodded hesitantly.

" 'Cause I'm in a bit of trouble, Consul."

"Yes. Yes, you are in a bit of trouble. And I'm here to make sure that, despite all this trouble your rights as a British citizen and a member of Her Majesty's Armed Forces are honored and respected."

"Can you get me extradi'ed, sir?"

"Well, we've been working on that. Mr. Thompson, the Permanent Secretary for Defense, has been talking with Defense Secretary Hagel and Attorney General Eric Holder about the possiblity of shipping you over to Colchester. I've also been in Mr. Hague's ear about the possibility of putting some Pressure on the Secretary of State. The word is that Mr. Kerry might be sympathetic to our cause. You should realize that Her Majesty's Security Service and Secret Intelligence Service are also pushing for charges as well."

Mike nodded his head. He really didn't understand all the political ins and outs. He just wanted to go home to Cornwall.

The consul noticed the look. He felt a bit sorry for the young kid in front of him, caught up in a huge mess not entirely of his making.

"Private Pruddy?"

"Yes sir?"

"Have you been told in detail the charges against you?"

"Umm..yes...sir. I don't remember all of them, though, sir. I know they say that I was involved with Private Hanning's...with what he is accused of...the leaks."

"Yes. That's the gist of it. Let's go through them again just to make sure you understand." He took out a slightly crumpled packet of paper out of the folder lying on the table. Mike repressed an urgent desire to reach over and smooth out the wrinkles.

"Mr. Pruddy you are charged with three counts of 'Perpetrating Espionage Against the United States of America..."


	2. Twilight in Portwenn

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 2: A Twilight Walk**

The houses of the village showed up as dark silhouettes against the fading bluish-pink sky. Tiny pin-pricks and blobs of light dotted the dark gray forms. Al and Morwenna could be barely seen as they rounded Roscarrock Hill on the Coast Path.

"Beautiful, innit?" Morwenna remarked. She'd lived in Portwenn all her life and still found it breathtakingly gorgeous at times.

"Yes," Al said, his eyes on Morwenna. She looked over at him. Al could make the faint outline of a smile on her face in the darkness. They continued their walk silently, but happily. Right ahead, Morwenna could see the Surgery. A light was just going off on the lower level. "Looks like the Doc and Louisa are heading up for the night."

"Doc's not having sleepless nights anymore then? No more hemophobia?"

"You been listenin' to that gossip down at the Crab again Al Large? I don' know about the Ellingham's sleep schedule, and frankly, I don' want to."

"Yeah...I see wha' you mean about that."

Morwenna grinned. She liked Al's slow, rambling way, his big heart. No doubt he'd asked out of genuine concern for the Ellingham's. He'd grown on her a great deal since the Cornish Couples fiasco. She'd greatly respected him for coming to Mike's rescue after going AWOL and his diplomatic intercession with the Doc a few weeks ago when she'd accidentally slept in. And, unlike many of the guys around town, he wanted to be something, do something, and was willing to work hard to make it happen.

It'd been years since she'd really been out with anyone for more than a drink. Her grandfather had always told her to be choosy about who she saw and, one day, married. He and her grandmother had met in 1938. She was a Jewish refugee from Austria, a real looker by her grandfather's accounts, and he a fisherman's son from Portwenn. It'd been love at first site. Then The War came. He was called up and sent to the front and she had been interned in an enemy aliens camp. Eventually, she'd made her way to London, where she'd had many admirers, all of which she'd turned down, even after Morwenna's grandfather had gone missing, feared dead, in North Africa. It wasn't until 1947 that they'd tracked each other down and got back together. A further 5 years they'd courted, while he was moved around from occupation duty in Germany to Malaya, and then, Korea. They'd married in 1952, and barely left each other's side for over 50 years until her death in 2004. Could that kind of story, that kind of love happen these days? Certainly her parents' relationship hadn't turned out that way. She'd nearly given up on the concept of compatibility...until that fateful meeting with 'Colin.'

Al studied Morwenna, sizing up how he felt about her She could be light-spirited, even a bit loopy, and she wore the most outrageous outfits. For years that's all he'd really known of her-she was a pleasant person to be around, but little else. But since his brief time as her boarder he'd seen a different side of Morwenna. More serious. Thoughtful. Intelligent. It was a nice blend, he decided.

Morwenna suddenly noticed his gaze. Al looked away quickly.

"Weather's quite pleasant, innit?," he said a bit nervously "Not too hot, not too cold."

From the second-floor window of their bedroom, Louisa Ellingham secretly watched the pair, smiling as they slowly walked past the Surgery into the village, chatting now and again

"What are you looking at, Louisa?" a pajamaed Martin asked from the bed, his voice indicating genuine interest and curiosity. They'd just arrived back that morning after an all-night drive home from Brighton, where they'd spent a weekend holida. They were planning on calling it an early night, providing James cooperated.

"Oh just watching Al and Morwenna. They've been goin' a bit steady recently, you know."

"Yes. I noticed," he said. "Nice pair, I suppose." He'd never mention it, but he'd always liked Al Large, and like all of his receptionists, Morwenna had grown on him as well.

"Hmph. I didn't think you paid attention to those kinds of things, Martin"

The assumption slightly irritated Martin "Well, I'm not totally oblivious to the social life of Portwenn, such as there is. I _have_ lived here for some time now."

"No, of course you're not _totally _oblivious," she responded conciliatorily, coming to sit on the bed. "I've actually noticed you've taken a greater interest recently in these kind of things...in things that I...I care about..."

"Yes," Martin responded, his tone still a bit stilted. It was about time she noticed.

"..And I just want you to know, Martin... I appreciate it."

"Hmmm," Martin said, never one to directly accept a compliment. But on his face, a small trace of a grin could be seen. His eyes communicated the enormous affection he had for this woman, his wife. Louisa quickly fell under their spell, pecking him on the lips.

Martin slowly, hesitantly slipped an arm around Louisa, pulling her closer to him. They took each other in for a moment, and the walls between them seemed to slowly fall away.

"Martin," Louisa said softly, finally breaking the silence. "There's something I want to talk to you about." Martin smiled, brushing her hair back. She'd caught him at the right time. For once, it seemed, the channels of communication between them were open. If ever he was willing to 'talk,' as Louisa put it, it was now.

"I've been doin' some research on the Internet about something I learned about at uni..."

Martin frowned a little. They'd been though this before. The Internet was a terrible place to do research for the uninitiated-and in Martin's mind, that included Louisa. What did a nursery school teacher know about medical matters? And why on earth would they teach prospective educators about such things at university?

"I know...I know...there's lots of unreliable stuff on the Internet. But I think I may have something here."

"Oh?" Martin said, trying hard to not sound critical or dismissive.

"Martin, what if...I think you might...umm..."

"Louisa, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Asperger's...is it possible Martin? I mean I know there's..." She instantly stopped. The scowl on his face was intense. She could almost see the walls falling back into place.

"Of course not...Right...I won't mention it again," she said as pleasantly as she could. She didn't want a row with him, not tonight. "Let's go to bed." She kissed him on the cheek, softening his expression.

"I love you Martin," she added. Martin finally submitted. He too was exhausted and had no real desire to fight with his wife. Admiring her now, as she settled into bed, their long laundry list of past arguments seemed so petty, so inconsequential. He turned out the light and lay down to sleep. Frankly, with drowsiness fogging up his brain, he wasn't really sure anymore what he'd even been irritated with her about, only moments before.

"Yes...umm...I love you too," he replied, finally, as Louisa faded into unconsciousness.


	3. A Day's Work

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 3: A Day's Work**

For Joe Penhale it was another slow day. No criminal complaints, an unusually low number of minor litter violations. He'd issued a few parking citations to unwary tourists, but otherwise he'd been mainly confined to his desk, dabbing a plastic watercolor brush on the new paint by numbers he'd bought recently in honor of his brother, or seriously contemplating completing the 3 page form for something or other that'd been lying on his desk for a week.

He was busy daydreaming about a major drug smuggling operation setting up shop in Portwenn when his phone rang. He nearly pounced on it.

"PC Penhale reporting!"

"Penhale this is Dobbs!"

"Detective Chief Inspector Dobbs? It's an honor to finally talk to you, sir."

"Penhale, I'm afraid I don't have much time."

"Right, how long do we have to nab 'em, 24 hours?"

"I have about _5 minutes _Constable! Any longer and I will be late for an important counter-terrorism conference in which I'm the guest speaker-and you'll be unemployed! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Penhale said, gulping.

"I thought so. Word from HQ is that Thames House itself is asking for our cooperation in a critical espionage investigation." Penhale nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Did you say..._espionage_...sir?"

"Don't worry Penhale, you won't have to sully your hands for this assignment. Some men are coming down from Special Branch. They'll be looking into one Private Michael Pruddy, formerly AWOL, and now accused of leaking classified documents."

"Mike leaked...secret documents? But he's...an electrician."

'"I see you're familiar with the name. Our records indicate that he and his family hale from Portwenn. Your job will be to facilitate interviews with known contacts in the village, and arrange for suitable accommodations."

"Sir, will MI5 actually be involved?"

"Word is that someone, plainclothes of course, might be sent down from London. Keep a sharp eye out, Penhale! This is strictly Devon & Cornwall's investigation. We'll throw the Security Service the scraps when we're finished."

"Understood, sir!"

"And Penhale..."

"Yes...sir."

"You're a facilitator...nothing more. Remember that!" Dobbs promptly hung up.

Penhale immediately got up, grabbed a police report pad and burst through the spare room door to grab his baton. This was his time to shine. Fighting espionage. Dodging secret agents. All part of a day's work.

"What are you doing?' Al groaned, pulling the pillow over his head.

"Counter-Espionage."

"Sure you are."

"Is something wrong Al?" Penhale asked, deflating a bit.

"Oh...some trouble with Morwenna."

"Women are just like that...just shake your head and agree with everything they say. They'll change their minds in an hour anyway."

Al made a face and rolled over. He was grateful to Penhale for putting him up, but the last thing he needed to hear today, of all days was the policeman's cliché, wanna-be rubbish.

Penhale shrugged and headed for the front door. First stop: The Surgery.

As he ran through the streets he nearly ran into Bert Large coming out of the florist. "Oh, Penhale, can you please tell David here his prices are straight highway robbery! Price gauging, that's what it is!" Jennifer appeared in the doorway tugging on Bert's shirt.

"Bert Large, get back in here!"

"Sorry, urgent business Bert! Gotta run!" Penhale said flying past.

"No I'm tellin' ya Jenny it's not that I don't want the flowers...," he heard Bert say, as he rounded the corner. As he passed the school at a fast jog he was joined by Morwenna, who was also running, or attempting to do so.

"Umm...Morwenna!" he shouted breathlessly, "The Fun Run's not 'til next week!"

"No...I'm gonna be late...Doc'll kill me!" Penhale studied her face. He prided himself on his 'keen' observation skills.

"You're eyes look a little red. Have you been _crying_? Al said it was a bit of a rough night," Penhale wheezed as they ascended the hill to the Surgery. She rolled her eyes in frustration and ran faster, outpacing Penhale. Nearly collapsing on the front steps, she desperately grabbed the door handle.

"You know you're early, right?" Penhale remarked mindlessly as he caught up.

She looked down at her watch. Of course-it was set 30 minutes ahead. She'd completely forgotten. A horrible night was turning into a miserable day.

She walked over to the front door opening it for Penhale. "There's some coffee in the kitchen if you want it," she said, not caring that the Doc might throw a fit upon discovering Penhale pilfering his limited coffee supply.

Penhale beelined for the kitchen. It was well known that the Doc had recently bought some special flavored coffee from London for his wife, and he was anxious to partake.

"Why can't we ever talk about _real_ problems, _your_ problems, Martin!?"

Penhale nearly fell over at the impact of Louisa's voice. Clearly someone wasn't happy. Morwenna joined Penhale eyes wide. She'd thought the Doc and Louisa had been doing so well.

Martin was silent for a moment, his face stern. There were no biting words. There wasn't even a scowl. There was something rather unusual for the Doc-pent-up anger.

"Yes, Martin. You have _problems_! _Many_ problems! And you may think you can just sit there all proud and migh'y at your desk and diagnose everyone else's conditions, ignoring you're own," Louisa paused for breath, her eyes still shooting fire. "And you may think it only affects you! Only you have to be miserable! Well I'm here to tell you, Martin Ellingham that you have a wife and son, and everything you do affects us, affects me!"

His face remained unmoved. "And yet you stand there, and refuse to let anyone be a part in your life, share your burdens. James Henry wailed loudly, seemingly unnoticed in the heat of his parents' animosity. But it was noticed. The fire in Louisa's eyes softened to pain and hurt. Martin cocked his head, still speechless in his anger. "Oh, just go away Martin! Run away and hide your feelings, you problems, your Asperger's or emotional disturbance or whatever medical term you wanna call it!"

"I do not have Asperger's!" he roared. Louisa stepped back, shocked by the outburst.

"Louisa I am a trained medical professional! I completed nine long years of strenuous work in some of the world's finest hospitals and medical schools. I can diagnose my own 'problems' as you call them! I don't need some hare-brained nursery school teacher to...to..." he stopped, realizing the insults he'd just hurled at Louisa. It seemed as if she'd shrunk down in size, a harmless threat, vulnerable, shocked and deeply hurt. A moment before he'd felt nothing but a brutal desire to shred her illogical arguments, to put her in her place, make her hurt for the hurt her words had inflicted on him. But he didn't feel any satisfaction now. There was a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth. He waited silently, almost hoping she would fire back, punish him. Instead a tear ran down her face. Her will to argue had collapsed.

"Louisa..." he began, his tone apologetic.

"No Martin. You're right. It's none of my business." Her eyes were red, her face drained of color. So it was confirmed: she wasn't intelligent enough for Martin. He was an intellectual giant, a brilliant genius, and she was a lowly schoolmarm from a remote fishing village. No wonder she couldn't make him happy. She was deadweight to him, mixing him up in her messy emotions, keeping him from a fulfilling career, making him spend his days cleaning up after a one-year old instead of conversing with the brightest medical minds.

Martin could see the light going out of her eyes. He'd crushed her spirit, and the effects were terrible to witness.

She turned around to go upstairs. Before her stood the gawking forms of Morwenna and Penhale. She lowered her head in humiliation.

Morwenna quickly walked away to the reception room, her face grim.

"I-I can come back..." Penhale stuttered out, preparing to leave.

"No Joe," Louisa said, tears still poring down her face. "You go right in." She walked away slowly, lowering her head as she walked past Morwenna and ascended the stairs.

Martin stood at the kitchen, stunned. Joe Penhale stepped in. "I know this isn't really the time Doc, but, when you get a chance I'll need to talk to you and Louisa. It's about Mike."

"Mike?" Martin asked absentmindedly.

"Yes, Doc, Private Mike Pruddy, your nanny? Got himself in a bit of trouble in the States it seems. Leaked _top secret_ files and all that. Crazy stuff, eh, Doc?"

Martin didn't respond. Penhale bowed his head and turned to leave.

"I'll get back to you," Martin said absently, finally forcing himself to say something.

Penhale nodded and quietly walked away.


	4. Priorities

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 4: Priorities**

Roger Fenn opened his mouth wide. "Aaaaaaaah!"

Martin was no connoisseur of music, but he found Roger's voice slightly melodic. Unpleasant as examining Roger's throat was, he found the monotonous sound a bit soothing, especially considering everything that had happened this morning.

"Well, I'm happy to say that it appears that your larynx has healed remarkably well, and there's no sign of any cancerous tissues reappearing. It's impossible to completely rule out any future reoccurrence, but in my opinion you're in the clear."

Roger looked pleased but not surprised. "It's funny what cancer does to you. Realigns your priorities. Makes you evaluate your relationships. I have a wonderful wife and two lovely boys. My daughter visits frequently with my grandchildren. I'm part of a band again. I'm teaching what I love. Honestly, I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything in the world."

"Are you saying you're glad you got cancer?"

"The cancer itself was hell. But lots of wonderful things have happened as a result of it, or rather how I and those around me responded to it. It's only been a few years, but my life has changed drastically for the better, Martin, thanks in no small part to you and Louisa.

He cast a rather inquisitive, knowing look at Martin. "Funny thing is, there was a time when I couldn't stand the sight of either of you. " His eyes burned with questions. Clearly something was wrong between the two. "Not much has changed," he teased.

"Why do I have a feeling you're hinting at something, Roger?" Admittedly, he and Roger were not the closest of friends, but they had a mutual admiration for each other and he remained Martin's oldest friend in Portwenn. Except Louisa, of course.

"Yes, well I was hoping you'd tell me before I had to ask you. Rather awkward , don't you think, prying into people's personal affairs. I figured when you wanted to talk, you would."

Martin sighed. He might as well.

"Yes...well...we...umm...Louisa and I..."

"You had a fight? Nothing new there."

"No."

Roger sighed. They sat there looking at each other, communicating with their eyes. Roger suddenly stood up.

"Where are you going? The examination's not done yet."

"I know a patient of yours who needs far more help from her GP right now than I do." He cocked his head slightly.

Suddenly Martin's eyes lightened up. He straightened up, adjusted his tie and stood up.

"Yes, you're right." He marched straight past Roger, out the door and straight through the throng of patients in the reception room. He shot a glance at Morwenna, who nodded and sat up in her chair, prepared to tackle the inevitable delays and questions from patients that would follow.

He quietly walked up the stairs, a patient or two calling from the foot of the stairs. Gently, Martin knocked on the door.

"Louisa," he said softly. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"Come in," came the weak reply.

In front of him Louisa stood, dressed for work, staring into the mirror. But instead of the strong, confident, outgoing woman he often saw leaving for school through the garden door, he saw a sad, disappointed woman, eyes red and make-up smeared from sobbing, shoulders slumped, hair in a mess. All her adult life she'd struggled to repress those feelings of disappointment and worthlessness, and usually, thanks to her strong, outgoing, but caring personality and her wonderful friends she was very successful. But life with Martin exposed those feelings, those deep, murky issues she'd hoped were dead and buried long ago, much as she'd exposed his most vulnerable weaknesses.

Martin felt like his heart had sunken into his stomach. He'd done this to her. His words had had this effect. It was a terrible, awful power. His native compassion quickly rose to the fore.

He wrapped his arms around her and gently turned her around, then gently caressed her cheek. His lips trembled a little at the sorrow he saw in her eyes as they looked into his.

"Louisa..."

"No, Martin," she began at first weakly, but with gathering confidence in her voice, "I'm sorry. I knew it was a touchy point for you. And you are a doctor..."

"No," Martin interrupted, gently. He sat down on the bed, Louisa joining him. "Louisa. I'm the one who owes you the apology. What I said...there was no reason for it. It's not true. You are the most beautiful, the most intelligent woman I've ever met."

"That's just flattery, Martin," she said, her jaw clenched, though she knew at heart she was wrong. Martin didn't do flattery. "Louisa you are so remarkably capable and smart. You are tremendously competent, both at your job, which is so vitally important to many children's lives and as a mother. I meant what I said when I said you were by far the most capable candidate for headmistress."

"Don't even get me started on that," Louisa said, but she no longer felt any hostility towards Martin. She'd waited so long to hear him say these kind of things. A few tears ran down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. She was so weary of this cycle. This weekend, things had been wonderful. They'd felt like a family, the fanily they'd both, frankly, never had. But here they were again, at each other's throats. Why couldn't they seem to get it right.

Suddenly she felt a warm embrace. She opened her eyes. It was Martin.

"I didn't think you really did...hugs," she said, pleasantly surprised.

Martin withdrew slightly. "Umm...well...it seemed...ummm...appropriate at the time," he stammered out, looking fairly uncomfortable.

"Oh Martin," she said, exasperatedly. "What're we gonna do?"

He took a deep breath. "Louisa, I'm determined to make this work, and I know I make so many mistakes..." Louisa watched him intently. "But I need some help." There was a look of desperation in his eyes.

"_We _need some help, Martin." She bit her lip. "I think we should look into marriage counseling."

Martin nodded his head.

"I mean, we don't really have our parents to help us figure this out, and we don't really have anywhere to look for guidance for this kind of thing."

Martin nodded again, more confidently.

"Everyone needs some help sometimes," she suggested.

"Yes, I agree," Martin said commitedly. Louisa smiled. She was so glad that Martin, for once, understood. This wasn't a threat, or a last ditch effort to save their marriage. This was about addressing the cracks in their relationship before they became gaping fissures. Morwenna, carefully holding James the way she'd been painstakingly instructed by Louisa, nodded toward Martin, a small smile appearing on her face. The couple ducked through the living room and to the kitchen. By now Louisa had regained her composure. She quickly began collecting her materials. She was going to late for Career Day. "You'll stop by later right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Martin said softly. Louisa smiled. In her gut she felt this deep urge to stay-this illogical feeling that, if she left, that this connection, critical lifeline between her and Martin would fade away.

Martin's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Oh, Joe Penhale stopped by earlier. He wants to talk to us about Mike."

"Mike Pruddy? Our minder?"

"Yes. Seems he's gotten himself wrapped up in some trouble overseas."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I hope he's not gone AWOL again."

"No, something about leaking classified documents."

Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Our _Mike_? Leakin' _documents_?"

Martin nodded. "Seems like he's in a bit of a mess."

"I feel kind of bad for the poor kid," she said sympathetically. Mike's OCD had driven her batty, but the thought of the clean-cut young man locked away in some high-security prison disturbed her. And he'd kind of grown on her.

"Yes," Martin agreed, somewhat surprised.

He helped her put her coat on, and kissed her goodbye. They looked at each other longingly for a moment, not caring that they were both enormously late for their jobs.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Martin," she finally said, tearing herself away.

For both of them, hours seemed like far too long.


	5. No Rest for the Weary

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 5: No Rest for the Weary**

"Shut up!"

Martin held the stethoscope to Bert's chest in yet another attempt to hear his heartbeat. Bert pursed his lips. By now, he rarely took such admonitions too personally. The Doc had a job to do. But the Doc's tone still got on his nerves a little, now and again.

"Again, your heartbeat doesn't sound irregular to me, Bert. But if you're worried about it, watch your diet, get some moderate exercise, and try and reduce the stress you're under."

Bert laughed a bit grimly. "Good one Doc!"

Martin turned back towards him, almost sympathetically. "Yes, I suppose with that lousy restaurant of yours its bit hard." He remembered when he himself had fretted endlessly over his blood phobia. He hadn't been able to sleep nights, had an irregular heartbeat, felt little desire to eat, and had withdrawn from what little intimacy he had with those he cared most about it. The past month or so he'd been too obsessed with saving his marriage to care about his own deprivations. Yet, last night, the restlessness had returned. Just an hour before he'd struggled to take a blood sample. It troubled him deeply.

Bert watched Martin's musing. It wasn't like the Doc to drift off into thought in the middle of an appointment. The famously grumpy, impenetrable Martin Ellingham was showing a vulnerable side, and for a moment, Bert felt a deep sense of empathy and kinship with the man.

"Truth be told Doc, there _have_ been some rather stressful events happening of late."  
"Oh?" Martin stammered quickly, snapping out of it. He looked at the clock. Five minutes to Noon. He cursed himself for getting distracted, for showing a weak, unprofessional side to Bert, and most of all for allowing Bert to start blabbering away about his personal life.

"It's Jenny, Doc."

"Not injecting herself with Botox again, is she?" Martin inquired dispassionately.

"No, no, nothin' like that, Doc. She's been..._moody_ recently. Keeps yammerin' on about the decorations, and the catering, and her dress..."

"Hmm" Martin said unhappily, clearly in no mood to have a chat about petty spats between Bert and his fiance.

"She says I'm too worried about the money. But money don't grow on trees, Doc."

"No." Martin grunted, his impatience growing.

"You know what I'm talking about, Doc. Didn't Louisa do the same thing? I mean, I know the first time around you two..."

"No," Martin said firmly, defending his wife. Louisa was a sensible woman. She had her moments, but when it came down to it she wasn't all frills and fancy. Perhaps that's part of the reason he loved her.

"Oh. Well..."

"Look Bert..."

Bert sensed Martin was growing weary of the conversation. He glanced at the clock.

"That whole Career thing'll be starting at the school. We'd best get down there, Doc, or your Louisa will have both our heads."

Martin cocked his neck. "Yes," he admitted stiltedly.

"Why don't I give you a lift in the van?"

Martin hadn't the foggiest idea what logic there was in offering a ride to the school in the van, when he himself had his own car and when the school was so close. But Bert was right about them being late, and with the car seat in place, Bert would have trouble squeezing into his car.

"Alright," Martin agreed, very reluctantly. He muttered something about germ infestation.

Bert rose with an effort and headed toward the door. As he opened it, Martin noticed Morwenna crying out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated a moment.

"Umm, Bert, could you hand me that tissue box from the counter over there."

Bert nodded, a bit bewildered, and handed him the tissues.

As the pair entered the reception room, Morwenna stiffened up, quickly rubbing her eyes. Martin discreetly placed the tissues on Morwenna's desk.

"I'll be back for the next appointment at 2," he said curtly.

"You can take a break until then," he whispered, looking around to see if Bert noticed. But the restaurateur was already out the door, musing over his own problems.


	6. Career Day

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 6: Career Day**

As Bert's lumbering vehicle ground to a sickening halt in front of the school, Martin could see Louisa desperately trying to direct peopleinto the building, though most of her words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Hi Martin," she said breathlessly as he marched up, his usual stern expression on his face. "We've had a bit bigger of a turn-out this year than we'd expected."

He nodded.

Just then, a large fisherman and his wife stepped between the pair, arguing loudly.

"Excuse me," Louisa said. The couple ignored her. Her blood grew hot within her.

"_Excuse_ me!" she said again, this time nearly screaming.

"Shut up!" the man shouted, quickly regretting his words when he noticed it was Louisa. Martin's eyes flashed angrily.

He clapped his hands loudly.

"_Quiet_!" he yelled.

A few people looked over at him, but on the whole, most people still stood around talking.

He noticed Joe Penhale chatting with an attractive young blond, his megaphone hanging uselessly at his side. Martin quickly marched over, seized the megaphone, and climbed onto the short wall overlooking the harbor.

"_Quiet_!"

His voice boomed across the schoolyard. Suddenly, the only thing that could be heard was the whistling of the wind.

"Can everyone _please_ make their way into the school. Thank you," the megaphone transmitted. There was immediate movement toward the school entrance

He handed the megaphone back to a shocked Penhale, and clambered down. From across the crowd he received a wide smile and thumbs up from Louisa, as she scrambled into building to attempt to direct traffic.

It took about 20 minutes for the school staff to round everyone up and get them seated in the auditorium and another 5 minutes for Penhale and Al to quell a dispute between Bert and the catering staff from the Crab & Lobster, who had been distributing free vouchers.

After a quick introduction, Louisa found herself sharing a wall with Ruth Ellingham. The two had become fairly close recently, and Louisa couldn't help feeling like Ruth was _her_ aunt as well as Martin's.

"A little bird told me you were looking into marriage counseling..." Ruth whispered to Louisa as a long-winded fisherman related the finer points of net cleaning.

Louisa furrowed her brow.

"Morwenna."

A small smile appeared on Ruth's face. "I assure you my source had only your best interests in mind."

Louisa pursed her lips. Of all the receptionists Martin had employed over the years, Morwenna certainly seemed to be the most understanding. They'd taken to calling her Aunt Morwenna on occasion, a nickname the young receptionist seemed to take a liking to. She suspected that Ruth was right-Morwenna was only trying to help.

Ruth studied Louisa bemusedly. "Here's the number of a man who might be able to help you out." She handed Louisa a name written neatly on a piece of stationary. Louisa raised her eyebrow.

"Do you really think Martin will agree to see a-?"

"If you ask him to, he will."

Louisa nodded, smiling. "Thanks Ruth."

The fisherman finally finished, and Louisa, folding the paper and putting it in her purse, ascended onto the stage.

"Next up, we have our very own GP, _Doctor _Martin Ellingham." She smiled as her husband tersely walked up on the stage. As their eyes met, she could sense his nervousness.

"Martin," she whispered.

His eyebrows drew together. This was no time for a conversation. When would she learn that public displays of affection were inappropriate in...well they were just inappropriate in general.

"...Thanks."

She flashed him a hopeful smile. He nodded, a bit surprised and stepped up to the microphone.

"Good evening. As many of you well know, I am the General Practitioner assigned to the Portwenn District, which includes the villages of Portwenn, Bodmin, and Port Glavern, as well as the surrounding rural areas. I provide a variety of mandated medical services for the greater Portwenn area including check-ups, referrals, emergency care, medical paperwork, and emergency surgery..."

"Blood samples?" someone shouted out.

The crowd laughed.

"Yes," Martin said, clearly annoyed at the interruption. There was an awkward silence. Martin held up a diagram.

"This is a diagram illustrating proper hand-washing technique. It has come to my attention that some of the residents of this town do not properly sanitize your hands after using the lavatory."

There were a few snickers. Ruth glanced at Louisa.

"Well...I have been having a bit of a problem with my Year One's," Louisa reasoned.

"Despite the idiotic myths circulating about, medical research clearly shows that washing after urination is just as important as after defecation."

Louisa put her hand over her eyes. There were loud bursts of laughter.

Martin pressed on, his voice increasing in volume along with his frustration at his audience's apparent immaturity.

"While urine itself is usually sterile, coliform bacteria originating in the intestines can easily be conducted to orifices..."

Suddenly there was a stir in the audience. Martin glared in indignation.

"Umm, Doc, this fella 'ere don't seem to be feeling too good," a man called out. As he spoke someone slumped forward onto the ground with a groan.

Martin quickly jumped down from the stage.

"Out of the way" he shouted, pushing through the crowd.

A man was sprawled out on the floor, holding his head. His dress was relatively no-descript. He might have been a farmer or a tourist, or a local shopkeeper. Martin certainly had never seen him.

"Been feelin' a bit faint, Doc," the man said upon seeing Martin.

"I think all that talk of indigestion and defecation, and whatnot mighta done him in, Doc," an onlooker suggested. Martin scowled and crouched down, examining the man.

"No, no," the man on the ground disagreed. '"It's my blood sugar. I got diabetes. Skipped lunch."

Martin's brow creased. "That was stupid, don't you think?"

"Sorry Doc."

There was something odd going on here. This man didn't seem to be exhibiting any of the other signs of low blood sugar, or even faintness. To all appearances, other than the dramatic fall a few moments ago, nothing seemed wrong at all.

"Well, it doesn't look like any serious damage is done. Let's get you off to a side room where I'll check your glucose levels and get some nourishment into you."

Louisa helped Martin hoist the man up. She nodded toward PC Penhale at the back of the room. The policeman made his way around and ascended the stage as the trio made their way toward an exit.

Penhale approached the microphone.

"Well, that's a hard act to follow." There were a few half-hearted laughs. Most people's attention was still fixed on the fainting man.

Penhale suddenly whipped out a black object from a holster and displayed for the audience to see.

"This is a taser," he said, with the utmost seriousness. Louisa's head whipped around. She caught Penhale's eye.

"No guns," she mouthed, wildly signaling with her hands that his taser act was a no-go.

Penhale, holstered the weapon. "Unfortunately, today I'm not going to be talking about tasers, but something equally important to our community: Traffic Safety." There were some groans from the audience.

Louisa led Martin down the hall to the small teacher's lounge, and quickly fetched a small chair for the man.

"Do you have any starchy foods around here, Louisa?" Martin asked urgently.

She mused for a brief second. "Well, we have animal crackers."

"Yes that will do perfectly." She started scrounging in the cupboards.

Martin turned to the diabetic. "Do you have a glucose monitor?"

The man looked around. "Actually Doc, I don't have Diabetes."

He pulled a badge out of his pocket.

"Scott Clear. Special Agent of Her Majesty's Security Service. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you and Mrs. Ellingham here a few questions."


	7. Classified Information

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 7: Classified Information**

Martin looked disgusted. He had enough to worry about without people wasting his time with fake illnesses.

"Is this about Mike?" Louisa asked.

"Yes this is about Private Pruddy I'm afraid. I presume PC Penhale has already informed you of the charges against the man?"

"He said something about Michael leaking documents," Martin recalled.

"Yes that's right. There is evidence that while Private Pruddy was receiving technical training in the United States, he became involved, along with an American soldier in leaking classified diplomatic, military, intelligence, and inter-agency documents of the United States and the United Kingdom to the website Wikileak, which specializes in posting leaked documents from around the world."

Louisa and Martin looked at each other.

"That doesn't sound like Private Pruddy," Louisa reasoned.

"It's rarely obvious to the casual onlooker that someone's engaging in espionage. And I understand Private Pruddy has a record of disciplinary infractions with Her Majesty's Army in the past."

The agent's tone rubbed Louisa the wrong way. "You said you '_presumed_,' that PC Penhale had informed us, Mr. Clear. Aren't you and the constable working together on this?"

Clear looked slightly embarrassed. "The Security Service tries to rely on local police as much as possible, as we have no power to arrest or even to carry out a warrant, and the locals often have valuable knowledge about their territory. However, in this case there were some concerns about PC Penhale's...abilities."

Louisa bit her lip. Penhale was a bit incompetent.

"Actually," Martin interjected, "I believe...umm...PC Penhale's knowledge of Pruddy could be an asset in this case. I witnessed his involvement in the AWOL affair..." He paused and looked toward Louisa for a second.

"I wasn't able to do a proper diagnosis, but based on my interactions with him and Michael's own confessions, he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

Louisa's eyes grew wide. Of course! It all made sense now.

"Michael's OCD caused him enormous hardship in the military, resulting in his temporarily leaving his post without permission for several weeks."

"Doctor Ellingham, what does this have to with the matter at hand?"

"PC Penhale followed my professional advice to not arrest Pruddy, realizing that it would be better for Michael if he surrendered of his own volition."

"Doctor Ellingham," Clear said, smirking a little. "I don't doubt that PC Penhale is competent and knows the subject well. But he takes orders from above. I have reason to believe that these orders may have biased his approach."

He drew closer to Martin and Louisa. I have reason to believe that there isn't really enough evidence to convict Pruddy. From my investigations, confirmed by what you've been telling me, this man Pruddy seems innocent."

He sat back a bit. "I'll need to finish my investigation, of course. But I've spoken to DCI Hobbs, the gung ho detective Cornwall's got on the job. He's pre-judged Pruddy on limited information. Left to his own devices, he and Penhale will nail Pruddy to the wall with an incomplete and heavily biased character analysis, without looking at the true facts of the case."

The room was silent as the couple took it all in. One of the teachers quietly appeared at the end of the hall.

Clear turned toward Martin.

"Well thanks Doc, I feel a bit better now. I'll see you around."

"Yes...umm...make sure you monitor that glucose regularly...and no more skipping lunch."

"Will do Doc."

The teacher tip-toed into the room.

"Louisa, Bert's just finished and Ruth's about to speak. I figure she'll be about 10 minutes at the most."

"Thanks, I'll be right in," she nodded, smiling. The teacher disappeared down the hall.

Louisa whipped around to face Martin, a smile no longer on her face.

"Martin, when exactly were you plannin' on telling me that our son was being cared for by a man with a personality disorder."

"Actually, it's an anxiety disorder. Michael understood that his behavior was irrational. Someone who believes that such excessive behavior is rational suffers from OPCD..."

"I don't care, Martin...You knew Mike had OCD and you didn't tell me. Why?"

"I hadn't done a proper diagnosis at the time, and it didn't seem to be a problem."

"Martin-the man rearranged our kitchen on a daily basis. Not to mention he was taking care of our son."

"Michael suffered from a very mild form of OCD, and wasn't dangerous or psychotic." He looked Louisa in the eyes. "I wouldn't allow someone I thought was dangerous around our son."

Louisa was momentarily moved by the statement, but thoughts quickly came to her mind of Mrs. Tishell.

"You've kept other things from me as well. Why don't you share information with me, Martin? It's like the contents of your mind are classified information to me."

Martin stood there silently, uncomfortable.

"I suppose I'm used to living on my own," he replied reflectively, "not really sharing my burdens."

She shook her head. It was more than that. He was afraid of how she would react.

"Fine then," irritation in her voice. "_I _have got to get back, and you've got Surgery, so I'll be off." She made towards the auditorium, but stopped midway through. "Oh, by the way, Ruth gave us a name to check out for...umm...you know."

Martin acknowledged with a stiff nod

"He comes highly recommended." She deliberately avoided mentioning the man's name or specific occupation. If Martin didn't see fit to be transparent with her, why should she be transparent with him?

"Good."

"Should I call him or not, Martin," she said exasperated.

Martin grew more attentive. "Umm...yes...of course. That'd be great," he said softly. Why did he always seem to make her unhappy. He wanted so much to please her, even to express his feelings, his struggles. But he always seemed to mess up, to disappoint her.

She nodded, a bit remorseful for her harsh tone, and walked away. Martin stood in the room for a moment, silently reflecting on the flaws Louisa had pointed out to him. So she wanted him to communicate more. But when he did communicate, when he did point out problems, she got angry and accuse him of being too blunt. What exactly did she want? He scowled and marched out of the room into the auditorium. He couldn't help but hear Al and Jennifer talking in a side hall.

"It's just recently, Bert's been so uptight. He's shot down all my ideas for the wedding, he's always griping about how expensive everything is..."

"Well, you know, Dad's not got much money. He's scraped by pinching every penny he could for as long as I can remember."

"That's the thing Al. I told him I don't want an expensive wedding. Heck, I said we could get married in a registry office for all I care. But he insisted we have a proper wedding."

"Then what's the problem?"

"But regardless of how cheap things are or how I try to cut costs, your dad groans about the cost. He's ticked off just about every shopkeeper in town. Don't know what's got into him"

Al nodded. Sounded like something his dad would do when he was grumpy.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"No," jenny admitted, a bit ashamedly.

"Good," Al replied. "Don't. You'll only hurt his feelings and have to deal with him sulking around for a week."

Jenny frowned a bit.

"You seem a bit gloomy yourself there, love. What's wrong?"

He shrugged.

"Al, I don't want to belabor the point or hang it over your head, but we'll be family soon. You can tell me what's up. I'm a pretty good listener."

He nodded his head. After his first, rather tense experiences with Jennifer, the two had come to appreciate each other. She wasn't his mother, and neither pretended she was, but she was practically family and they enjoyed each other's company, especially when the subject was his father.

"Well, it's Morwenna."

Jennifer looked sympathetic.

"She...umm...she broke things off..." It sounded so childish coming out of his mouth.

But Jennifer didn't reply with some sort of trite, conciliatory response like he expected.

"We had a great night the other night," he continued. "Had dinner. Took a walk down the Coast Path. Watched the Sunset. Real good stuff."

"What went wrong?"

"Well, I walk her home, yeah? And there we are. It's dark but there's street lamp. And she just looked..." He struggled for words. "Gorgeous. I mean the light sort of hit her hair just the right way, and she had this funny, smile on her face, and her eyes were just sparkling..." He stopped, looking around warily to make sure no one else had heard.

"So I...umm...well I just kinda wanted to...kiss her...ya know? Not make-out. Just a nice firm kiss on the lips."

Jennifer suppressed a grin.

"Well, I try to find the right words to ask her, yeah? And she's just standing there, looking kind of uncomfortable. So I work out what I'm gonna say." Al swallowed hard.

"So...you...know...I ask her, kind of vaguely, nothing to bold, to make sure she doesn't feel pressured."

"And what did she say?" Jennifer asked impatiently.

"She starts crying...says something about being used. I tried to apologize but she went in the house and slammed the door on me." He frowned. Jennifer smiled a little. A petty fight, easily resolved. Al would buy her some flowers, they'd talk it over and everything'd would be fine.

"I know, I've ruined it, haven't I?" Al asked, looking at Jennifer.

Just then there was a loud bang in the auditorium. They peeked to see what the problem was. Louisa was standing around a portable table, trying to get the folding metal legs to fold into place.

"Let me help you with that," Al said, racing over.

"Oh thank you Al. The custodian's gone home early it seems and my husband's got his Surgery to attend to."

Martin, still hidden in the side hall, glanced at his watch. He was almost late for his appointment at 2. He quickly rushed off, nearly knocking over a welcome sign as he ran.

_**To Be Continued...**_

**Thanks again for reading! I love your feedback! I'll have more soon...**


	8. Low Expectations

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 8: Low Expectations**

Louisa arrived home worn from another long day of work. As much as she knew this session was important, she had to admit she wasn't looking forward to it. It was enough she'd have to rush around getting ready, postponing dinner past Martin's 'carbohydrate curfew.' But to have to drag an especially lively James, not to mention Martin, along would tax all of her remaining strength and determination.

As she entered the front door she noticed Morwenna packing up.

"Hi Morwenna!"

The receptionist quietly waved, smiling a little. Louisa paused for a moment, precariously balancing a bundle of school materials in her hand. Normally, you wished Morwenna would _stop_ talking. But every time Louisa had seen the girl today, she was nearly silent.

'Perhaps working with Martin is finally taking its toll,' she thought. What Morwenna needed to do was get away from it all for awhile, just relax.

"Will you be seeing Al tonight?" she asked, her voice full of mischief. "I hear there's fireworks over by Port Quin."

Morwenna felt a lump in her throat. "I'm afraid me and Al don't have any plans tonight," she replied politely, though Louisa noticed she seemed slightly subdued.

Martin suddenly walked in from the examination room, he looked crosser than usual. He had more than his usual contingent of malingerers and know-it-alls. Morwenna hadn't been much help.

"What are you two going on about?"

Louisa gave him that look of defiance he knew all to well. "Good evening to you too, Martin," she said harshly.

"Oh...umm...right." He nodded, unsure if he should ask her how her day was or simply take her punishing words in silence.

Louisa rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, "I was just about to tell Morwenna here that sometimes women need to do a lil' _arm-twisting_ to get things done."

"Umm, Louisa..."

"No, Martin, I've not finished yet." She looked toward Morwenna. "Al seems like a great guy. But he is a man. Sometimes he may need a little push in the right direction."

Morwenna's eyes were red. She looked visibly upset.

"Thank you Mrs. Ellingham," she said, just barely managing to keep the tears back. A look of concern flashed across Louisa's face.

"Morwenna, is everything alright?"

The girl nodded. still rubbing her eyes. She looked at Martin.

"Umm...Doc, if you don't need anything else..."

He shook his head.

She gathered her things and practically ran to the door.

Louisa's cocked her head in bewilderment. "I wonder what was wrong with her." Louisa remarked, looking to Martin.

"Umm...they're having a bit of hard time at the moment."

"Really?"

"Umm...yes," Martin said, avoiding eye contact. "I don't think they're seeing each other any more."

Louisa exasperatedly with her hand. "_Martin_!"

"Yes, Louisa?" he said calmly arranging files and papers around the receptionist' desk.

"Why didn't you tell me?!

He looked at her for a moment, his face expressionless, before resuming what he was doing.

"This is exactly what I was talking about yesterday, Martin! You're not communicating!"

"I tried tell you, Louisa!" Martin spat back. "You were so consumed in your little sermon to the poor creature you wouldn't listen." He walked into the examination room and took back some medical supplies in a cupboard.

"Speaking of which," Louisa shouted from the reception. "You do remember we have a session with the reverend over in St. Minver at 6 today?"

"The _Reverend_?" Martin asked disgustedly. He appeared at the doorway, cotton swabs in hand.

"And what's wrong with _that_, Martin?"

"You're going to take us to some self-righteous, bigoted old man for advice about our marriage? Let's just hope this one isn't drunken sod, or a dispirited old hermit, with a passion for swine and little else."

Louisa gave him a funny look. She recognized the other descriptions, but Martin had never mentioned anything about swine. Some things were better not known.

"No, _Martin_. We are going to see an ordained clergyman who happens to be well-trained in marital counseling and above all was recommended by your Aunt-who, if you haven't noticed, is a notable psychiatrist."

"_Criminal_ Psychiatrist."

"At any rate, we're scheduled to see a Reverend Milligan at the St. Minver Community Church at 6."

"Ugh,' Martin said, cringing. "This is one of those horrid evangelical churches isn't it? Didn't Dennis or whatever his name was put you off those shallow, self-righteous..."

"Martin, now you're just being mean-spirited!" she barked. "This has absolutely nothing to do with Danny Steel! Why do you always have to try to dig up the past?"

"Oh, so you can dig up the past whenever you want, but when I bring it up simply to avoid a future mistake, I'm being mean-spirited?"

"Martin...I don't want to hear anymore about it. You agreed to go. We have an appointment. End of discussion." She marched upstairs to get James ready.

By the time they approached St. Minver's, Louisa felt a bit guilty. here she was accusing him of not communicating, when she herself hadn't. Perhaps that's partly why he'd been so resistant.

"Have you ever been to a church service, Martin?" she asked, searching for something to say to break the ice.

"I've been to a funeral now and again. And there was our wedding," he said softly. Clearly his mood had softened as well.

"And Roger's, and Elaine's dad's," she added.

"Some nice architecture. Otherwise I think its a bunch of superstitious medieval buggery."

"I admit I've never really felt comfortable with all those rituals and candles, and prayer books and whatnot." She shot a furtive glance at Martin, not wanting to give him a reason to backtrack. "But a lil' tradition's not all bad, now is it?"

There was silence for a moment.

"I used to go to church around the time my parent's marriage started really hitting the rocks. We'd go as a family. I was probably about 8. The last memories I really have of us all being together."

"Some good it did," Martin replied sarcastically. He felt a sudden twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Louisa looked down. "In a way you're right. My parents would make such a fuss about getting ready and puttin' on their best face that I think it might have been the last straw that pushed them over the edge."

Martin nodded uncomfortably.

"Do you believe there's a God?" he suddenly blurted out.

Louisa looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I'd like to think _something_ might be out there," she continued. "Some sort powerful Celestial Being, a kind of cosmic force for Good, kinda keeping things from getting too messy."

"What?" Martin scoffed. "With the sorry state this world is in? If this Celestial Being you speak of is out there He must have a rather cruel sense of humor." All this talk about church had brought back memories of Auntie Joan's funeral. He thought of coming to her place the day she died, finding the bag with the baby products in it. His beloved Aunt, dying hours after his son was born. She'd been robbed the chance to see her great-nephew. Martin had been robbed of one of the greatest, most-sacrificial people he'd ever-known, a woman who was almost a mother to him.

Yes He, if he existed-of which there was no proof-must be cruel indeed.  
Martin pulled into the car park. Automatically, they noted a difference from the picturesque little chapels sprinkled here and there along the coast. This building was a converted something-or-other, tidied up, given some nice landscaping, and expanded. It was modern but not quite the super-modern concrete artforms she'd seen in London.

They parked and got out. Over to a side, a few kids were playing on the playground, watched by what appeared to be a very unlikely group of women, many of them quite young. Louisa squinted to get a better look. "That's Veronica Green," she whispered to Martin.

"I wonder what on earth she's doing here. She's a...well...you know..."

"A prostitute?" Martin blurted out, He'd treated her several times, and while he had no confirmation on her occupation, it's been easy to guess. Of course he'd never tell Louisa that.

"Well, let's just say she gets around a bit," Louisa said in a hushed tone.

They opened the glass doors of the church and stepped in. In front of them was an open space, with an information desk in the center. All around were small flat-screened monitors and posters advertising various upcoming events at the church. Skylights let in natural light, considerably lightening up the space and making it feel less claustrophobic. Hallways and doors led here and there. It was a weekday afternoon, and while a few people milled about here and there, the place was mostly empty. All-in-all the church seemed to have a welcoming comfortable feel about it that even Martin couldn't deny.

Still, the couple couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. This was all new to them.

A young woman in her early 30's walked up.

"Louisa!?"

"Beth! How good to see you!" The two friends embraced. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm actually married to the head pastor." Louisa raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I know! Who'd have known back in Graham Terrace I'd be married to a _preacher_."

Louisa smiled, "I have to admit I was a bit surprised."

Beth turned toward Martin.

"I always knew you'd end up with a looker," she winked at Louisa. "O!...and a beautiful little one." Martin suddenly felt uncomfortable.

The woman looked down in adoration at James Henry. "Looks alot like his father, Louisa," she said. James Henry giggled. "Aw, what a precious little boy. You must be quite proud of him, she said, looking at Martin. He felt his pride tickled a little.

"Yes," he said, smiling subtly. He brushed his hand across James' sparse hairs. The baby grinned up at him.

Louisa felt herself swelling with adoration. It was moments like these that reminded her why she married him.

"Oh, I've not introduced you." she said. She pointed at Beth.

"Martin, this is my friend Beth Milligan from uni and my first few years teaching. Beth, this is my lovely husband Doctor Martin Ellingham," she blushed a little "He's our GP over in Portwenn."

"_The _Doctor Ellingham?" Beth inquired.

"My aunt's a Psychiatrist. She published a book. You're probably thinking of her," Martin said modestly.

"No, no. I know Ruth well through my husband's work. Even had her over to the house a few times. No, Doc Martin, or _Doctor Ellingham_ I should say, is practically a household name around these parts-and I'm new to the area."

"Really?" Louisa asked, a bit impressed.

"Ask any of the attenders here: Polzeath, Tintagel, Padstow, Bodmin, Camelford, even Bude. They all sing the Doc's praises."

"I'm not the GP for those areas."

"I know that Doc. Your reputation precedes you." Martin cringed a little. He wasn't sure that was entirely a good thing.

"At any rate, I'm sure you'll be wanting to see my husband. But before you do, two things. One, there is a nursery for..."

"James. James Henry. He's almost a year old now" Louisa said proudly.

"James. Nice name. Our youngest, Anna, is 14 months."

Martin cleared his throat. This baby talk was beginning to get to him. "Right, umm, you said there was a nursery?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor, down the hall and to the right." The couple started off down the hall

"And Louisa, here's something for you." She handed her a brochure. "We have a MOPS group here-Mothers of Pre-Schoolers. Activities for the kids and hang-out time for the mums. It's great." Louisa leafed through the brochure as Martin marched down the hall, resuming his quest for the nursery.

Beth bent close to Louisa "I think you're husband's moved on to bigger and better things."

Louisa looked up wit a start.

"_Martin!_" she called after him, her high heels hindering her attempts to catch up.

She looked back at her friend. "It looks lovely Beth. Thank you so much!"

They registered James at the Nursery and after receiving directions headed to the sanctuary, where they cut across to the Office. Louisa was sure she could hear what sounded like an electric bass as the approached the doors.

"Very traditional," Martin

They opened the doors to be greeted with a familiar sight: Rogen Fenn.

He quickly spotted the couple.

"I never thought I'd get the Great Doctor Ellingham to hear our little band. Our fame must be growing indeed," he laughed, gesturing to a small group of young teens equipped with various electric instruments, gathered on what looked like a stage.

"I'm surprised they let you in the door," Martin stated dryly. Roger jumped down rather lithely for his years "I'm not really a 'believer' yet as they call it. Still got my doubts, and all. Long life and all," he said in a low tone.

his voice grew louder so the band on stage could hear him, "But after the twins wrre born we decided we wanted to start fresh. So we started coming here. And then they convinced me to teach these blokes. Not that they need my help anyway." One of the band members strummed his guitar playfully. The others laughed.

"What do they...do?" Martin whispered.

"They sing of course, _Martin_!"

"Well, yes, I knew that."

Louisa walked up to the two "I think they lead everybody in the singing, Martin. Like in church. In front of everybody."

"With _guitars_? Is that allowed?"

"We've got a few basses to. Johnny over there plays a mean keyboard," Roger quipped, ignoring Martin's question.

A cymbal clanged. "Oh yes, and Kevin on the drums."

"Is _Kevin_ wearing proper earplugs?" Martin began, trying to peer over the drumset at the young drummer. "Playing loud percussion instruments can..."

"Honestly, Martin." Louisa interrupted, dragging him away by the arm.

"Well...um...right then...carry on..." he said.

"See ya around," Roger said, shaking his head as he watched the two walk away, muttering at each other.

As they approached the pastor's office their argument rose to a crescendo.

"Louisa, will you please let go of my arm. I'm not a child!"

"Well, you're acting like one Martin." She released her hold, a fiery look in her eyes. Martin shook his hand.

"Louisa is it possible you are in the Luteal phase of your Cycle...?"

"_Martin!_" she snapped at him. "We're in a blood..." she stopped herself and lowered her tonewe're in a church!

"I'm only suggesting that you may exhibiting some of the effects of Premenstr..."

Martin abruptly cut short what he was saying as man in his early forties wearing jeans and a short-sleeve polo shirt walked up to the front desk.

"Can I help you folks?"

"Um, do you know where the secretary is?" Martin asked. We'd like to notify the...er reverend that we're here for an...our...uh..."

"For counseling," Louisa cut in softly.

The man smiled. "Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I am the...er...Reverend."

Martin looked sheepish. "Right...umm...we're here."

Louisa felt her blood boiling. Why couldn't Martin act polite, just this once?

The Reverend grinned, gesturing to his private office. He'd known they were meeting for pre-marital counseling as soon as he'd heard them enter the door. "Come in, make yourselves comfortable."

They quickly took their seats not far apart from each other facing the pastor's desk. As they sat there Martin noticed the stern, worried expression on Louisa's face. She put great stock in these sessions, and he'd started everything out on the wrong foot. He thought of his agreement to receive help to make this marriage work. Barely changing his facial expression he discretely moved his hand over hers. A small smile appeared on her lips. They briefly glanced at each other.

The pastor took a seat, pretending he didn't know the small gesture.

"You can call me Dan, or Pastor Dan if you don't feel comfortable calling me by just my first name." He exchanged firm handshakes with the couple.

"Doctor Martin Ellingham, am I right? GP over in Portwenn?"

"Yes." Martin affirmed, trying not to sound irritated. "Umm...but...you can call me Martin."

"Well, I'm glad to finally meet you Martin. And you must be the famous Mrs. E?"

Martin's forehead creased. Famous? Mrs. E?

"Yes! Now that I think of it I believe your Caroline's in Year 3."

"Yes, Caroline adores you, though I'm afraid we moved in after the school tour. With everything going on, and Beth having our second daughter we never really got a chance to meet you." Louisa was beaming. Martin sank further into his gloom.

"I understand you've worked with my Aunt Ruth?" he asked. He had an urge to ask if this work included administering last rites to victims of violent crimes, but he held his tongue.

"Yes, I've some background in psychology and your Aunt has consulted me about some of her cases. Nothing major." Martin now noticed several certifications and degrees located inconspicuously behind the pastor's chair. He was slightly impressed, though he was well aware that a piece of paper was not necessarily a clear indication of the man's competence.

"Do you have any experience with phobias?"

"I actually wrote my thesis on that," the pastor replied seriously, but not self-righteously

"I imagine Louisa has told you about my blood...thing."

"No, actually, she hasn't-though I was vaguely aware of it. I imagine she felt it was for you to tell, not that it alters my opinion of you as a very capable medical professional." A look of remembrance crossed over the pastor's face.

"In fact we're going to be registering at your..."

"Right, um... contact my receptionist," Martin quickly interrupted, scribbling down the Surgery's phone number.

The rest of the session went well. Martin felt confident that the casually-dressed man actually, in fact knew what he was talking about, while Louisa was certain he had the compassion, empathy, and insight to understand and address their complex relationship and history. The pastor mainly emphasized strategies that the couple could address, citing anecdotes from his own marriage, which reassured Louisa, as well as up-to-date research, for Martin's benefit.

"That went well, Louisa whispered cheerfully, as they left the church carrying a still slumbering James.

"Yes," Martin admitted, stiffly.

Louisa looked up at him tensely.

"Yes, I thought it went very well. I thought there was alot we could learn," he said softly, looking back at her. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He was trying.

"Heyyy Doc!"

Martin froze. It was a voice he knew only too well.

Bert Large.

He grimaced as the former plumber's head stuck out the window of his signature red van, a wide grin on his face.

"Did you track down a case of food poisoning to the Eucharist, Doc?" he teased.

"I'm not here on a medical compliant," Martin replied stiffly, a bit perturbed at being . Now every teenage posse and elderly gossip in Portwenn would be prattling on about the intimate details of his marital counseling session.

"_Gettin' religion_ then are you Doc? Wouldnta thought you was the type." Bert chortled.

Martin's face contorted.

Bert cupped his hands together and made a gesture indicating a rounded belly. He knew he was going too far, but somehow he just couldn't help himself.

"Me and my family's moral depravity or lack there of are none of your concern, you oversized, meddling..._twit_!" Martin growled fiercely, his voice echoing off the building. James almost instantly began to wail.

Martin marched away toward the car in a fury, paying little attention James' cries or the pleading look on Louisa's face.

Louisa walked over to Bert's van, her eyes on fire.

"Bert Large, I've known you to be foolishly insensitive, and I've known you to play mean pranks. But I've never known you to be truly and whole-heartedly cruel. If you _ever _speak to my husband like that again, I'll...well...just...just, go away Bert."

She stormed off toward the car, feeling like a wreck. Why did it always have to be this way? Misunderstandings. Cruel words. Flairing Tempers. Hurt feelings. She wondered if there was anything to truly repair the damage, to make this work.


	9. Nobody's Perfect

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 9: Nobody's Perfect**

Louisa awoke with a start. What a horrid, horrid dream! She quickly got up and tiptoed over to James' crib. For once, he was sleeping soundly.

Then she was struck by a strange thought.

Martin!

Where was he?

She looked back at the bed. It was empty.

For a moment she felt sick to her stomach.

She raced down the stairs. She suddenly was very glad Martin had thrown out those chocolate digestives she'd managed to smuggle in. Why had that been such a big deal? Why couldn't she let it go, let Martin be who he was? Nobody's perfect.

She reached reception area.

He wasn't there, but of course that wasn't all that surprising.

She burst into the Examination Room. It was pitch black.

Louisa switched the light on, feeling her heart beat hard. Nothing.

She ran to the living room. Dark as well.  
Perhaps he'd fallen asleep on the couch or passed out at the kitchen table.

Stumbling through the dark space she finally found a lamp and turned it on.

Nothing. Everything was as it had been.

Except, Martin, of course.

Louisa suddenly found it more difficult to breathe. Was she getting what Mrs. Cronk had-what had Martin called them again? The thought made her panic even more.

She rushed up the stairs to her room, checking the master bath. He wasn't there either. He wasn't anywhere.

Walking out slowly, she sat on her bed. What would she do? Where could he be?

Her breathing got tighter, more pained. She glanced over at James Henry. As she watched their child gently breathe in and out, the truth she'd so desperately been trying to prove wrong for the past few minutes slowly crept up on her.

Martin was gone.


	10. For Worse

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 10: For Worse**

Louisa lay down on the bed, tears beginning to pour from her eyes. What had she done?

Had she not been neat enough?

Had it been her weight?

Was it her dandruff?

No. Martin wasn't so shallow.

She knew the real culprit.

It was the way she treated him. Always haranguing him. Always insisting he change. Forcing him into uncomfortable situations.

And for what? He was a wonderful man, just as he was. A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but it was the whole parcel she loved: the lovely, the mediocre, and the ugly.

She suddenly noticed something on the bed.

It was photograph from James' christening. Her signature wide grin was displayed on her face, contrasting sharply with Martin's blank, almost cross demeanor. Putting the photo down she noticed other photographs and here and there a wedding certificate or a registration document strewn all across the bed.

Now she remembered.

There'd been another fight.

Bitter words exchanged once again.

Eventually, they'd both just stopped, weary of battering each other.

She'd gone upstairs, pulled out the shoebox labeled "_Our _Stuff" from under the bed, and fallen asleep, scanning tearfully through the pictures.

Her breathing had calmed by now, the frantic panic she'd been in, subsided. She was thinking clearly now.

She stood up resolutely and opened the closet door. All of his suits and shirts were there, neatly arranged, with a space between them and hers. She walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer.

His underwear was still there.

She raised an eyebrow. Odor-sensitive and germophobic Martin, of all people, wouldn't just leave on a trip without fresh sets of underwear, not to mention suits, to change into.

He couldn't have gone far.

Suddenly, her mother/school-teacher mode kicked in. She would find Martin, she'd embrace him, tell him how much she loved him, and that he was never to leave her again. Martin would surely accept her peace offering and she would bring him back home to his wife and son, where he belonged.

Louisa snatched up her phone, gently grabbed James Henry from his crib and placed him in his baby carrier. Lifting the heavy load, she walked downstairs as fast as she could.

She'd try the Crab first, then get ahold of Ruth. If worst came to worst, she'd roost Joe out of bed, and get him to help her search.

She'd suddenly pictured Joe and a party of policemen walking along the cliffs with flashlights, a Coast Guard helicopter illuminating the scene with a spotlight.

Utter rubbish, she thought, pushing the idea from her mind.

She took a deep breath, then opened the front door.

There on front step sat her husband.

"Oh, Martin," she called gently, kneeling down next him and embracing him tightly.

He didn't resists as she smothered him in kisses.

"I...I thought you'd left Martin!" she said. "I didn't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't be ridiculous Louisa. I...I couldn't leave you. We covered that at the Castle."

"Well, I had this dream." Martin looked shocked. He'd had a dream that she was going to leave him, not so far back. It'd changed his outlook on their marriage, made him realize he needed to get his priorities straight. Perhaps Louisa'd had a similar dream.

"You finally accepted that job in London, and left. I never saw you again. James would look at your picture and ask who you were and where you'd gone. I..." In the dream she'd told James he died, but she suddenly realized this sounded very melodramatic. She'd never say such a thing in real life.

"No, Louisa." He looked down at the ground, "For better or worse, I'm here to stay."

She stiffened up a little. "What do you mean, 'for better or worse'?"

"For better or worse, richer or poorer."

"I don't think you actually let the vicar say all that."

Martin smiled slightly "Well, Roger quizzed me about what it meant enough times."

He frowned. "Unfortunately, I think in your case its for worse."

What a terrible thing to say, Martin. She sat down on the step next to him, and placed a restless James in her lap, slowly rocking him back and forth.

"After our ragumentt about...umm...what happened in St. Minver earlier, I went upstairs earlier, to apologize, to beg your forgiveness, really. I saw the marriage certificate out on the bed."

"Oh Martin...you didn't think..."

"No. But it was a bit of a blow...I...I thought of what you said before you moved out after I scheduled the Christening without asking you.

"That was ages ago Martin!"

"Yes...well...you said this isn't the way things I supposed to be..."

She bowed her head quietly. It seemed like they'd come to that conclusion a hundred times. What was wrong with them?

"I searched my medical journals, in the online databases, even Ruth's book. Maybe there was some psychosomatic problem, some imbalance of chemicals in the brain. In the end there was only one possible answer: the problem was me. Who I am."

"But...Martin, you're a wonderful person. I love you." She put her hand on his back, gently rubbing it.

"Yes," he said, softly but awkwardly.

Her expression grew wan. "But you still feel you're not up to par."

"No."

She sighed. Looking down she noticed a book open in his hands.

"Another reference book?" she questioned, pointing.

His pale cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Umm...no"

He raised it higher so she could see.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You're really buying into that stuff Pastor Milligan said?"

"No," Martin said defensively. "Maybe. I'm not sure. I was pretty desperate."

Her expression softened. "Find anything?" she said curiously.

"Most of it just sounds like a bunch of religious clap-trap to me."He pointed at a line on the page. "But...ummm...this..."

Louisa read it out loud slowly.

"_Where do you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from? Do you think they just happen?  
Think again.  
They come about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves_."*

"I'd hardly say we're at war Martin. I'm not about to haul an axe out of the shed and start hacking away."

"Good heavens, I hope not. But the cause is the same, isn't it? I want something, and it clashes with what you want or need. I don't consider why you want it, or if what I want is really worth hurting you."

"Miscommunication is hardly the result of selfishness," she remarked a bit doubtfully, beginning to feel Martin's words strike home. "It's just two different personalities clashing."

"I don't know about that." He swallowed. "It's not always...easy for me to say what I want, what I should. There are hidden...fears...fears that you'll be displeased, that you'll no longer...want me...if I tell you the truth, tell you my problems, tell you..." He looked in her eyes, "how very much you mean to me, Louisa."

She sat there looking at him, reading the volumes he left unsaid. In that moment, they no longer seemed eons apart. This was her Martin. She was his precious Louisa.

There were times she just didn't understand him, and likewise he sometimes thought her beyond logic. But, when push came to shove, they knew each other better than anyone else. In a way, she'd known all this that he'd just told her, knew he cared for her deeply, wanted to tell her, but couldn't, wouldn't.

"We all crave security, Martin. We need it. And you have more reasons than most to fear disappointment."

"Yes," he said in his typical, awkward way. "But I pursue that security at the expense of you...of my family."

She put her arms around him, drawing him to her.

"So do I Martin. It's such a vicious world out there at times. You can get by, try not to think about it, find a nice comfortable niche somewhere, not really exposing yourself to anyone too deeply. But I don't want to live that way. I want you."

They both winced as James Henry let up a shriek.

Slowly they unfurled themselves and helped each other up. Louisa muttered something about getting old.

"I think we should schedule another...umm...session," Martin said, warily as they scrambled sore and exhausted back into the house.

Louisa shot him a smile.

"Agreed."

_*James 4:1-2 (The Message-[a paraphrase]), in case anyone's interested_

* * *

**Again, thanks for reading! I love the reviews you all have been leaving! Originally, this chapter was going to be included in Chapter 9, but because of your very enthusiastic responses, I figured I'd maintain the level of suspense at the end of Chapter 9 for future readers, and resolve the matter in a separate Chapter 10. I'll have more to the story soon...  
**


	11. Love Languages

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 11: Love Languages**

"So you think when I say, 'I see,' that I'm _judging_ you?"

Louisa nodded.

"Oh Louisa." Martin massaged her hands. Across the table, the remains of yet another very nutritious, admittedly tasty (if completely saltless) dinner littered two plates facing each other with, two tall, unlit candles in the center.

Despite Louisa's somewhat playful teasing that this was his second and final chance to try to light a fire, Martin objected to the potential 'bronchial irritants' that could be released. Unlike Louisa he didn't remember blowing up their rustic cottage's fireplace during their so-called honeymoon with any fondness.

"Then what do you mean?"

Martin moved his lips several times to speak but closed them again. She wanted to complete the thought, suggest some possible responses, but she decided it was better he learned to communicate.

"I...I suppose all I'm saying, most of the time, is that I understand."

She smiled. All afternoon at Louisa's suggestion, they'd begun to follow Pastor Milligan's advice and trade questions and answers about little habits or idiosyncrasies or behaviors that irritated the other.

The process had started off slow. Louisa found that pulling straight answers from Martin, or even getting him to suggest something he found annoying about her was like pulling teeth. Martin found articulating and communicating his questions and responses equally agonizing.

Occasionally, one or the other grew a bit cross when the other hit a particularly sensitive nerve.

But eventually the process had become more relaxed. Louisa actually found it a bit fun and romantic to have this sort of revelation of the stumbling stones in their relationship, of decoding Martin's unique ways of communicating and behaving, and helping him decode hers.

Even Martin seemed to enjoy the exercise at times. Pastor Milligan had mentioned something about love languages-different ways of communicating affection and love that he said different genders and different types of people use or desire. Martin wasn't sure he bought the idea-scientifically proving such theories would be nearly impossible. But he had learned from Louisa that she wanted certain displays of affection from him.

He'd once thought that providing practical care was the best way he could demonstrate affection. During their brief courtship Martin had constantly checked up on her health, bought her iron-rich foods for her anemia, and paid her a home visit when she was sick.

"I've always struggled with empathy," he'd told her. "It's always a puzzle for me what people expect from me. So I give them what I'm good at: medical advice and care." It always surprised him how many people, including his wife often rejected this simple gift. Didn't people want to be healthy?

"Yes," she'd giggled. "I can see that now. I still remember those yams you gave me. I thought they were the oddest gift. Only later did it strike me that you were simply looking out for me."

"There were no chocolates or flowers to be found," he insisted dryly, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Yes I know Martin." She grinned. He raised his eyebrows, but Louisa just smirked

"To this day, those yams hold very fond memories for me Martin." She'd later been quite shocked to find out from the 'herbalist' Sandra Mylow during a visit to her Truro clinic that a chemical found in some yams is synthesized into a chemical used in birth control pills. Nearly 8 months pregnant at the time, she's been devastated by what she could only figure was a heartless, not to mention reckless attempt by Martin to prevent them having a child. A combination of research, accounts of Sandra's malpractice, and a general realization that her conspiracy theory was in fact very far-fetched and illogical, had softened her attitude.

Her thought was interrupted by a caress on the cheek. Martin's eyes were soft with affection one of the few physical signs of affection he was wont to show on anything like a regular basis.

She began, slowly to move her lips into position. Martin, never a very subtle kisser, simply drew his face towards hers, his eyes gently closing. Louisa wondered for a split second if he would fall asleep. Louisa was just thinking about the potential consequences of leaving the dirty dishes as they were, when there was a loud knock on the door and a bustle.

In through the garden door burst Morwenna Newcross.

A shocked look crossed her face when she noticed Martin and Louisa, bending over the table, clearly poised for an extremely awkward kiss.

"Umm...if you too are busy...I can come back later," she said, her eyes darting toward the door.

Um...no...no, " the couple replied in unison, straightening quickly brushing down their hair and straightening out their clothes. Martin in his embarrassment forgot his initial wrath at this brazen intrusion of privacy by his apparently clueless receptionist.

Morwenna bit her lip nervously.

"So...umm...is there something wrong...Morwenna," Louisa asked, a bit puzzled. "A medical complaint perhaps?"

Morwenna shook her head. "No nothing...medical," she said hesitantly her eyes darted from Martin to Louisa and back. This was a lot more awkward than she'd imagined it.

"Actually...umm...I'm sorry to intrude," she said finally. "I'll just be leaving."

Martin glanced at his wife. A look of concern was painted on her face. Right then. A look of resolution appeared on his face as he walked toward a fleeing Morwenna.

"_Morwenna_!"

His voice, or rather his growl, froze her in her tracks. It was no wonder that a vaccination administered by Doc Martin was the darkest nightmare of almost every child in the village.

"It's clear that something is bothering you. Now _sit down_ and spit it out!"

Louisa raised her eyebrows. She'd wanted Martin to do _something_, but as usual, subtlety and charm were not Martin's way. And specifically stating what she wanted was not hers.

Morwenna, more than a little frightened-looking, joined them at the kitchen table.

Louisa looked her in the eyes. "No whatever this is, you can tell Martin and I." She glanced at her husband. "Martin, as you should know is sworn to patient confidentiality..." It momentarily occurred to Martin that this only applied if Morwenna was actually a _patient_, but he decided this was irrelevant. Who would he possibly tell and why would he want to?

"...And I...well...I'm a woman," Louisa said, searching for secret-keeping credentials to match Martin's. Empathy would have to make do.

Morwenna sighed a little. Now that it came to it, she didn't want to bother the Ellinghams with her petty problems.

"Is this about Al?" Martin asked gently.

"Yes," Morwenna said, surprised. Louisa and Martin looked on sympathetically.

"I think...I mean...umm..." she swallowed hard. He walked me home the other night and umm asked me to...well...you know. Martin started at her blankly. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Well, did you?" Louisa asked curiously, suppressing a smirk. Martin glanced at her, trying to understand.

"Oh. Yes, right," he said finally. He avoided eye contact with Morwenna. "I have some...uh...pills in my...er...examination room, if you'll allow me..." He rose, his face red.

"No, no!" Morwenna protested. "That's the thing. I don' wan' that, you know?"

She nervously stared down at the table. "I don't want to soun' like a prude, but I've always been a bit choosy about my...er...romantic attachmen's. I don' just see any guy off the street, yeah?"

"And you weren't quite ready for...er..._that_?" Louisa questioned.

"Well, it's not really a matter of being _ready_ for it. I'm a fairly laid back person, as I'm sure the Doc will tell you."

"Yes," Martin said hesitantly. "Except when you've taken an overdose of methamphetamine," he added.

"Yes, you're righ' there Doc," Morwenna said, her eyes glinting at the Doc's dry sense of humor.

"But, I feel like...you...know it's a gift, innit, and I wanna ya know, save it for...umm...la'er..."

Her eyes grew wide as she suddenly realized her words could come across as judgment. "Not that..."

"No! That's great Morwenna. I love Martin and James, but it would have made things a heck of a lot easier if we'd been married." She looked hesitantly in Martin's direction for confirmation that he agreed.

"Oh...umm...yes, of course," he said after a short pause during which he was desperately scrambling to understand. He'd have married her earlier if he thought she'd wanted to. Come to think of it, he'd dreamed of marrying from almost the first moment he laid eyes on her.

"Dating around can be fun. But I kin'a want a _serious_ relationship." Her eyes lowered again.

"Well, that's perfectly reasonable for someone your age," Martin commented.

A look of hope sprung up in Morwenna's eyes. So she wasn't just weird or old-fashioned. She _had_ just turned 20.

"I felt like Al and I were beginning to develop that sort of relationship. I could see myself growing old with him. I doesn't matter to me if this whole thing with the B&B and his 'fisherman's hol' succeeds or if he up and decides to go to Africa again, or if he spend the res' of 'is life plunging loos in Portwenn. I like Al...he's...well he's Al."

A gentle, compassionate smile crept on Louisa's face. Martin lips closed and his face grew serious. He too could relate with Morwenna, though the thought startled him a bit.

Morwenna bit her lip. "And the other night, as we stood there under the stree'light in front of my house, I felt like Al was throwin' all that away...like...like he didn't really care about me," her face grew downcast.

Streetlight...Streetlight. Suddenly it occurred to Martin. Al had mentioned this the other night when he was talking to Jenny Cardew. What had he said? He'd wanted a _kiss_! Not...

"Morwenna, have you umm...talked with Al, about this?" he asked sagely. Morwenna's head popped up. Her face contorted as she thought about what Martin said.

Personally, the doctor couldn't help but think she looked like a total idiot.

Suddenly there was a loud rap on the garden door.

"Who now," Martin grumbled. "Why doesn't anyone bother Aunt Ruth about their problems?"

He swung the door open angrily, bashing it into his knee.

"Owww!" he whined, glaring at the unwelcome guest.

It was PC Penhale.

"I haven't the time..." he started to say, furious at yet another intrusion. He could tolerate Morwenna, but not the idiotic local policeman. He stopped as he noticed Penhale pull out a packet of papers.

"It's about Mike Pruddy. Doc, we need to talk."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Shout-out to Boots1980 for the yam/contraceptive idea, which admittedly is derived directly from a review they wrote for my story "Yams" which (not surprisingly) goes further into the "backstory" behind Martin's gift of yams in Season 3. I'll have more soon!**


	12. The Gathering

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 12: The Gathering**

**Courtroom 6A, ****United States Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth**

"The Defense may present its evidence."

Mike Pruddy nervously rubbed his hands. Initially his attorney had frowned upon this compulsive action, saying it made him look as if he was worried he might be "found out." Then again his attorney had also said the best they could hope for was a minor jail sentence.

A muscular former military man with a graying buzz cut appeared before the court. He held up a stack of papers.

"I would like to enter here a joint report of the Special Branch of the Devon & Cornwall Police and Her Majesty's Security Service, also known as MI5."

Despite his initial nervousness and amidst the murmuring of the court and the pounding of the gavel, Mike had a hard time suppressing a smile.

**A week before**

"It's about Mike Pruddy. Doc, we need to talk."

Martin's glance shot to Morwenna and Louisa.

"Penhale, is there something wrong?" Morwenna questioned.

"Yes," Penhale said pushing past Martin. "A matter of national security, actually." Martin rolled his eyes.

"Joe," Louisa cut in gently. "I hardly think Mike Pruddy is a threat to national security."

"I bet they said the _same thing_ about Julius and Ethel Rosenburg," Penhale said, glorying in his audience's apparent naïveté.

"I understand what he's charged with Joe, but I..."

"How do _you_ know that?" Penhale questioned, his eyes displaying deep suspicion.

"Well...Martin told me."

"Oh." Penhale deflated. There was an awkward silence

"Well, I'm sorry to hear poor Mike's in trouble. A bit tightly wound, but not a bad chap all things consi'ered," Morwenna chirped. She rose to leave. Clearly her conversation with the Ellinghams had come to an end for the night.

"No!" Penhale interjected, blocking her exit.

"_Joe_," Morwenna said, a puzzled expression on her face. "Wha' are you _doing_?"

"Morwenna Newcross, did or did you not have a romantic relationship with Michael Graham Pruddy in the weeks before he surrendered himself to his base after being identified as Absent Without Leave from his post?"

Morwenna frowned slightly. "I mean we had one drink at the pub, but it was hardly roman-"

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stay."

"Oh come off it!" Martin protested.

Suddenly there was another knock at the door.

Penhale opened it.

A surprised Al Large stood at the doorway, illuminated by the kitchen light. In his right hand was a bouquet of flowers. Morwenna's eyebrows raised.

"Al, what are you doing here?" Penhale asked, puzzled.

"Well um, I was just goin' to leave these on...umm..." He tried to avoid eye contact with Morwenna. "...The umm...reception desk."

A small smile appeared on Morwenna's lips, quickly reciprocated by Al.

"_As _a matter of a fact, you had a significant amount of contact with Michael Pruddy before he..."

"Oh don't tell me the bloke went AWOL again! After I drove him all the way over to...!"

"Right. I'll take that as an affirmative." Penhale yanked a shocked Al into the kitchen.

Al looked at Martin.

" 'Ey, what's this all about Doc?"

"Leaks," Louisa whispered loudly.

Morwenna's mouth dropped. "That nasty bugger! _Stealin'_ from your kitchen! No wonder there's never a bite to eat around 'ere."

"I don't think she means those types of 'leeks', Morwenna," Al mumbled dryly.

Turning to Louisa he added, "If someone's stolen your copper piping, dad's still got some good contacts with a plumbing supplier down in Truro..."

"People!" Penhale tried to shout above the din in the crowded room. His agoraphobia was beginning to bother him. "This is a matter of national security. Mike Pruddy is a spy!"

Shock appeared on Al and Morwenna's faces.

"We don't know that!" Martin protested, his irritation clearly rising.

There was another knock on the door.

Martin and Louisa looked at each other. Louisa shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Now she understood why Martin had dispersed the social gatherings that once crowded into the tiny Surgery in Dr. Sims' time.

Penhale answered.

"Are you here about the leaks?" Al asked, peeking toward the door.

"You're the man wi' diabetes!" Penhale exclaimed. "I'm afraid the Doc's a bit pre-occ..."

"Agent Clear! Security Service." He flashed his badge. "And the Doc is right, we don't actually know that Private Pruddy is, in fact, guilty of espionage."

The room fell silent. Penhale was sure he could hear his heart beating.

Another knock at the door, this one loud and abrasive.

Penhale opened his mouth to welcome the newcomers in. Martin, finally through with Penhale's liberal admission policy, marched to the door, and swung it open.

"What do you want!" he barked. In front of him stood three burly men. Their uniforms clearly read Devon & Cornwall Police.

"This is DCS Hobbs, here with..."

"Go away!" Martin shouted.

James' loud wail suddenly sounded from upstairs. Louisa quickly squeezed through the crowd and rushed upstairs.

"I'm here to charge one PC Penhale with insubordination and disruption of a police investigation!" the detective growled angrily, his eyes defying Martin's glare.

"I'm sure we can sort this all out..." Penhale said, quailing. A loud argument ensued, quickly joined by Louisa, who angrily insisted to no avail that everyone keep the noise down.

Al turned to Morwenna. "Right then. I think I'll go put these flowers in some water before they wilt."

"I think I'll join you," she said. The two warily sneaked unnoticed down the hall to the Examination Room.


	13. On Trial

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 13: On Trial**

"Private Pruddy can you state for the court why you were in the United States?"

"I was receiving technical training as an intelligence analyst at the United States Army Intelligence Center at Fort Huachuca, sir, in Arizona."

"Can you please describe for the court your relationship with Private Hanning?"

Mike concentrated hard on his wording. He needed to tell the truth, but didn't want to sound too cozy to Hanning.

"We were acquaintances, sir."

"How so?"

"He was kinda a friend of a friend. We hung out a few times, but I honestly didn't know him that well."

"Did you ever cooperate with Hanning in uploading documents to the website Wikileak, including passing along information, moving files, or serving as a lookout?"

"No."

"Did you know that Private Hanning was involved in the copying of classified documents and uploading of those documents to the website Wikileak?"

"No I did not."

The lawyer spun around to glance at the court, then spun back.

"Private Pruddy, where were you on the night of the 2nd of September, 2013?"

"I was on base at Fort Huachuca sir."

"Can you tell us where you were at approximately 2100 hours?"

Pruddy, despite his best intentions swallowed hard. "I was in Barracks 21E, sir."

"And am I correct in saying that that was also where Private Hanning was living at the time?"

Mike could feel his heart beating fast.

"Yes sir. Yes it is."

* * *

Al found a carafe in a cupboard, and began filling it with water. Morwenna watched as he skillfully arranged the flowers into the vase.

"They're quite beautiful," she finally remarked. It must have been hard to find such a colorful bouquet."

Al shrugged. Truth be told, he had had the florist arrange a custom bouquet, carefully picking out what colors and flowers he wanted and where he wanted them.

Morwenna nodded. She knew Al well enough to know he had put great effort and a substantial amount of hard-earned money into the bouquet.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, Al?"

"Umm...no...I mean...well..." he said, obviously caught off guard. He'd worked out a whole speech in his head, even written it down, but with everything that'd happened it was all but forgotten now.

"Nothing at all?" Morwenna said, clearly disappointed.

Al sighed.

"Morwenna...I'm sorry if I can off real forward the other night."

"Yeah., you were a bit forward."

"I thought...it seemed like...we were at a certain point in our...you know?"

She nodded her head. "I do think the world of you, you know that Al?"

He stared down at the vase, playing with the flowers. He finally nodded.

"But..."

"But it's not right is it?"

Her heart fell. Maybe he didn't like her after all.

"Actually, I thought you...or we were great," she said a bit dolefully. "But if you don't feel the same way, then I understand." She felt like something was caught in her throat. This was turning into a nightmare.

Al looked at her. "I thought you were the one who didn't think it was right..."

"_Me_? Al, I love you!" She covered her mouth with her hands.

Al's face contorted in bewilderment.

"You _what_?"

"Umm...nothing."

"Nope. Not getting away that easy. What did you say?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at him. "I loveyou," she said flatly

"Ha Hah!" Al laughed, doing a small victory dance.

Morwenna smiled. "Don't get too puffed up now...I've not finished talkin' to you!" she protested half-heartedly.

There was a wail in the hallway. Louisa, concentrated on getting James Henry to stop crying, walked straight into the kitchen, oblivious to their presence. She nearly ran into Morwenna.

"Oh, sorry Morwenna" she said, somewhat drowsily. Morwenna rose, and offered to take James Henry.

"Oh thank you, I was just coming to get away from all that noise." She handed the baby over the young receptionist.

"Sorry about all this, Louisa. I feel like we're taking over your house." Morwenna said apologetically.

Louisa chuckled a little. "Nothing new there. I'm getting used to having Portwenn in my living room." She sighed. "It's just those idiots in the kitchen. And of course Martin's got to be in the middle of it. It's just so...male."

"Hey!"

"Oh, sorry Al. I didn't mean you."

"So I'm a woman now, am I?" he teased.

"Glad to see you two back together though."

Morwenna looked down at the floor.

Louisa whipped around to look at Al. Her eyes were full of that disdainful defiance she usually aimed at Martin after an unusually rude comment. "Al Large! I thought be'er of you than to try to take advantage of a woman nearly half your age!"

"I'm not quite that young..." Morwenna began to say.

"Frankly, I'm ashamed!"

"Louisa, all he did was ask me..."

"I'll bet he asked...!"

"All I wanted was a kiss!" Al finally broke in.

The room fell silent.

"A _kiss_?" Morwenna asked.

Louisa looked confused. "I though you said he asked you to..."

"Well...he didn't exactly say that."

Al threw his hands up in the air. "You actually thought I wanted to...!"

"You _were_ a bit vague."

"That's strange." Louisa said.

"Not really," Morwenna said. "Al's always been a man of few words."

"What is this, Pile On Al Day?" Al scoffed.

"No. Shhh. Listen They've stopped arguing."

They all listened. Sure enough the loud bickering had stopped.

"We'd better go see what's happened," Louis said, a bit concerned. She'd learned the hard way that silence isn't always a good sign..

The three scrambled back into the kitchen.

Martin, Penhale, the agent, and the three policemen still stood in their places, joined mysteriously, by Aunt Ruth.

Martin nodded at Louisa. He couldn't help but feel a wave of exhilaration watching his beautiful wife glide in, carefully cradling their son in her arms. His expression softened a little.

"So what you're saying, Doctor Ellingham is that Private Pruddy had OCD?" one of the policemen asked.

"Well, I haven't done a thorough diagnosis, but yes, he exhibited all the signs."

"I fail to see how that's relevant," DCS Hobbs growled.

"Relevant!" Al burst out. "The man couldn't pack a suitcase!"

"So that's why he was so...you know..." Morwenna suddenly blurted out.

"OCD or not the man ran away from duty. A history of flaunting the time-honored rules of the armed forces."

Another of the policemen nodded "A classic trend of anti-social behavior if I ever saw one."

"Now wait just a second here!" Penhale suddenly said, more firmly than he felt. "Mike Pruddy was a good guy. He didn't give me a fight, he never got in trouble, and he was a model citizen. He even fixed the Ellinghams' breaker."

"So a child minder and an electrician, 'ey? The policemen laughed.

"Mrs. Ellingham, I haven't heard anything yet from you. What do you think?" Agent Clear cut in.

"Joe's right. Mike was a nice guy and he was great with James Henry." She flashed a smile at Martin. "He did rearrange my entire kitchen, but I think he probably couldn't help it."  
Martin's eyes lit up.

"What was that again?"

"You know...he rearranged our kitchen. I made a whole hoopla about it and you just said 'Seems logical. Don't you remember?"

"Yes," he said thoughtfully.

"What is it Doc?" Penhale said, worried. "Is that a bad sign?"

"Mr. Clear," Martin said authoritatively, ignoring Penhale. "You mentioned fingerprints. Where precisely were those fingerprints located?"

The agent looked through his notes.

"Only on the memory cards."

"Excuse me," Louisa burst in. "What memory cards?

"The top secret files that were leaked were stored on memory cards for a digital camera while Private Hanning was serving in Iraq," Ruth sagely explained.

Al couldn't help but grin. No doubt it was Ruth who had been the voice of reason that finally had gotten these knuckleheads to work together.

"Memory cards are so tiny, no one probably noticed them when he was coming back from Iraq!' Morwenna said.

"Yes," Martin said, a bit impressed in spite of himself.

"Only Michael's fingerprints appear to be all over these memory cards," Ruth said, frowning a bit.

Agent Clear sat up and looked at Martin.

"Yes, yes. We've been through this!" Hobbs complained. "At the end of the day, Pruddy's still as guilty as ever."

"I'm not so sure," Martin said.

He looked at Agent Clear.

"Louisa mentioned that Michael rearranged our kitchen."

"Well, yeah. OCD makes you want to have everything clean," Penhale stated.

"It's more than that, I think," Louisa said, beginning to slowly catch on. "Martin wants things very neat and organized but he's not compulsive about it."

"Right," Martin said. "Michael had difficulty controlling his actions. If a book or a carrot or.."

"Or a block," Louisa said, recalling Mike's hang-up over the red lego she'd placed in a line of yellow ones.

"Yes," Martin said, nodding.

"So if a stack of say, memory cards, was out of place..." Agent Clear mused.

"..Then Pruddy would have felt he had to put them back in place," Hobbs joined in. "But I just don't see it. They weren't his."

"Neither were my...I mean _our_ dishes," Louisa pointed out.

Hobbs looked skeptical "There's not enough evidence."

Agent Clear sat up.

"It just so happens I have the surveillance video taken from inside the barracks!" he quickly whipped out his ultra-thin tablet.

Morwenna sat forward admiring the flashy device.

"Top-of-the-line this is," Clear boasted.

"Where'd you get _that_?" Morwenna asked, admiring the technology.

"Online. Got it second-hand for a real good price from some poor blighter who stood in line freezing his butt off for 9 hours." He chuckled. "Says he bought it for his girlfriend for Christmas, only to have her break up with him by text five minutes after he bought it."

"So not secret government issue or anything?"

"With the recent budget cuts? Heavens no!"

He finally pulled up the video.

They all crowded around the screen.

"There. There's Private Pruddy." clear pointed out.

"I can barely see him Louisa commented. "He's bending over the desk now-you can see his face in the lamp.

"There-he's pausing," Hobbs said. "He's looking at something."

"Zoom in!" Martin commanded.

"Okay, okay, Doc, no need for flaring tempers here," Penhale said attempting to console him.

'"oe, we're talking about whether or not man spends the rest of his life behind bars," Louisa said, defending her husband.

"They'd probably give him a lighter sentence," Martin stated matter-of-factly. Louisa decided to ignore the comment. "There-right there! He's stacking the memory cards."

"_This _was your primary evidence?" Ruth said to Agent Clear.

"Well..."

She shook her head.

Hobbs stepped back, a wide grin on his face. "Looks like that's a wrap. Well done! Penhale, you've done well for yourself and the service. I won't forget it!"

"Umm...thanks?"

Louisa turned toward the others. "But I still don't get it. Why would Mike be hanging around Hanning's barracks?"

Agent Clear spoke up "In court he said he was friends with some of Hanning's friends. He even met Hanning a few times."

The agent shrugged.

"Well," Ruth remarked, "according to Martin, Michael had OCD. I'd imagine that made it more difficult for him to build social or emotional bonds with people."

Morwenna and Louisa, almost unconsciously, shook their heads in agreement. Martin pursed his lips. He had heard that OCD could cause a strain on relationships, but he'd never really found Michael more difficult to talk to than anyone else. Than again his social skills and awareness were rather poor.

"This Private Hanning no doubt had some of his own difficulties?" Ruth questioned.

Clear nodded. "Yes...umm...he mentioned his parents divorce was particularly traumatic." Martin and Louisa looked at each other then at James. Louisa hugged her son a little closer.

"Perhaps Michael found some people, who like him, were a bit different, a bit isolated. He must have known there was something unnerving about them, but perhaps he ignored that, in the interests of a common bond."

"Well," Hobbs said, clearly impatient with what he considered to be sentimental psycho-rubbish, "whatever happened, I think it's safe to say that Private Pruddy will go free."

There were cheers all around.

He looked at Agent Clear. "I think we should have a chat." Clear nodded. "There's a nice pub down the way." The two headed toward the door.

Martin and Louisa attempted to hustle the other 'guests' out of the house.

"Okay, party's over!" Louisa said, funneling everyone toward the door

Morwenna turned quickly turned to Al.

"Would you like that kiss now?"

"You don't mind?" he teased.

She answered him with a long, passionate kiss on the lips.

"I'll take that as a no."

Across the room Louisa looked at Martin expectantly. Their kitchen was a mess. James was moaning. They both had jobs they had to get up for early tomorrow.

But Martin's eyes gleamed softly. He wouldn't let yet another special moment be sidetracked by trivial concerns.

He put his arms gently around his wife.

"Let's give this another try, shall we?"

* * *

**Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned for more!**


	14. Seasons Change

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

**Chapter 14: Seasons Change**

Al Large could sense autumn was coming fast. Temperatures rarely fluctuated dramatically with the seasons in Portwenn, but the weather changed. Bright, blue-skied summer days were replaced with the granite skies and gales of winter.

Today, he sensed, was the last real day of summer. Radio Portwenn had forecasted a major storm system* coming in out of the Atlantic, and in the harbor boats were being brought in. Even now the grey clouds were rolling in, with bright beams of sunlight pouring down between them. There was a small bite in the wind. Change was coming.

Morwenna watched Al stare out reflectively into the harbor, eyebrows furrowed.

They were sitting at a table on the patio at the Large Restaurant. Al had ostensibly come over to help his dad out with the books, but Morwenna's appearance and a lack of customers had quickly changed Al's plans. She was quite surprised that Bert hadn't shewed her away yet.

Al's already fading hair was blown a bit by a gust of wind. She recalled many of her friends' secret admissions to her that age, not attractiveness had been Al's main put-off for them. Morwenna, on the other hand, had been raised by a man nearly 60 years older than her. What was a few years' difference?

'Still, he'll be bare-headed by the time he's 40,' she thought, laughing inwardly. A grin crept across her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, Al noticed the expression.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said trying to hide the smile.

"I s'pose I've been a bit of bore," he said self-consciously. "Sorry."

"Are you worried about something Al? You have that look on your face?'

"What _look_?"

Morwenna clenched her teeth and stuck her lower lip over her upper one. Her eyes narrowed to horizontal slits are she stared longingly out to sea.

"Oh. _That_ one."

He scratched his head. "Must have thought me a bit bodmin there for a second."

She laughed. "Over the moor and halfway to Truro." They both laughed.  
"I was just kinda thinking about the seasons changing."

"Yeah, here we're getting that big storm tomorrow. Gale force winds and all." She shivered out the thought of braving the wind and driving rain. "Not really looking forward to winter."

"It seems like a lot of things are changing," Al remarked. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Morwenna looked at him a bit shyly.

"About that..."

Al felt his muscles stiffen a little.

"...you know that kiss last night."

"Yes?" Al said, cautiously.

"Did you...did you mean it..."

She wasn't making any sense.

Al smiled a little. "Of course I meant it." He wasn't the type to lead a girl on. Usually _he _was the one being led on.

"Do you think...?" Morwenna began asking.

"Do I think you're Bodmin? Yes. Do I still love you? _Absolutely_."

Morwenna's eyes were wide for a second.

She grabbed Al's hands.

"I really want this to be a serious relationship. No messin' around. None of..._that_..."

Al had seen the consequences of _that_ with the Doc and Louisa. And while things had worked out well-in fact beautifully-between the strange, lovable couple, he'd seen the heartbreak that could be caused by rushing into intimacy without a strong and sure commitment, without sorting things out first.

He'd never forget seeing Doc Martin saying his 'last' goodbye to Louisa in the schoolyard the day before he planned to leave for London. And though he didn't judge the Ellinghams, he'd do everything in his power to make sure that didn't happen to his family.

"I agree," he finally said. "I'd like that. A committed relationship. Knowing where we stand. Knowing where we're headed..." He paused, taking in the significance of that statement.

Would he marry Morwenna Newcross, some day? He wasn't sure, but he liked the idea that they were thinking about where they were headed, that things were going somewhere.

"All that," he finished.

"Good."

"Great."

"Well, now that we got that settled..."

"...How 'bout a good drink?" Al finished for her. They both grinned.

"Got anything good in there?"

Al cringed. "There's the house stuff..."

Morwenna gave him a lopsided frown.

"Ehh...no...not really."

"The Crab..."

"Don't s'pose you've got any...?"

"No...not really. Leastways not 'til the Doc pays me on Friday."

"He wouldn't pay you early, would he?" He shook his head, knowing the answer was no. This was, after all, Doc Martin they were talking about.

"And Ruth won't pay me 'til Friday. Says it keeps me honest."

* * *

Bert secretly watched the couple from the kitchen.

"How are the young lovers today?" Jenny asked.

"Fine. Just fine," Bert said a bit wistfully. For once it seemed like his son had struck gold. "Never very good with the women...Thought maybe he had it with Paul but she up and went to Bristol. 'Fraid he takes after his father that way."

'Nonsense-you were always good with the women-still are," she said, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled a little.

"But finding isn't always keepin' you know?" Bert reflected, more seriously. He looked at Jenny and smiled. "Until now."

"Is _that_ what you've been worried about Bert Large?"

"What?"

"That things...wouldn't work out between us."

"Well...it's like that Milligan fella said. Nerves and all that. I mean, you and I both know-marriage is nothing to sneeze at."

He suddenly felt a strong itch in his nose. Reluctantly, he fished out his handkerchief and noisily blew into it.

Jenny smiled a bit.

"And money is the worst of it. Me and...you know...we constantly fought over money. I though this time I'd try to play it smart, not spend too much, and things would go smoother."

Jenny sighed "That's very sweet of you Bert."

He smiled flirtatiously.

"But really," she continued, "if this is gonna work, we've got to work on it together, like Pastor Milligan said. Talk things over, plan a budget out..."

The prospect of making a family budget up sounded a bit daunting to Bert, but he did have a little experience with this sort of thing now that he ran a restaurant. Plus, it could be kinda fun, spending time with Jenny, doing something practical.

"It's a deal," he said seriously. He offered his hand, but when Jennifer awkwardly stuck her hand out to shake his he gently took it and kissed it.

Jennifer looked at him softly.

Bert's eyes sparkled a little bit as he smiled.

"Now we'd better prepare for that dinner rush."

Jennifer rolled her eyes.

As Bert and Jennifer began planning for what would turn out to be another disappointing dinner rush, Al and Morwenna finally decided to 'raid' the Surgery. Louisa usually kept a bottle of something or other in the kitchen and the Doc had a nice vintage stowed away somewhere (a donation from a patient that was, not surprisingly, never opened) stowed away somewhere. If they asked nicely, perhaps using babysitting services as a bargaining chip, they might convince Louisa to let them have a glass each.

"You know you're in a sorry state when you're beggin' the Doc for a glass of wine," Al said woefully.

Morwenna nodded her head. "Except we're not actually going to ask _the Doc_. Has a thing about alcohol, he does...says it's bad for the liver, yatayata"

"Haven't you seen the picture of him wi' the dog?"

The receptionist laughed, the pink feathers on her elaborate earrings twirling about. "Yes."

"Paul came in that morning, and there the Doc was, curled up on the floor with the dog, two half-filled glasses of wine on the kitchen table."

He paused in whispered in Morwenna's ear "Rumor is, a couple sips makes him drowsy."

She giggled a bit. "I heard once he fell into a dead sleep while he was makin' out wi' Louisa."

Before Al could reply they had nearly reached the door to the kitchen. Peering inside they saw a familiar sight.

"Is that...?" Al began.

Morwenna's mouth stood agape. She too had heard the rumors, though, with everything that had happened, they were almost forgotten.

"..._Danny Steel_?" 

* A powerful storm known as the St. Jude storm or Cyclone Christian actually hit the UK and northern Europe in late October 2013, around the time this story is set.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned for more!**


	15. The Unwelcome Arrival

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and I'm not making any money off it._**

**Much thanks to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Unwelcome Arrival**

**Two hours earlier**

James Henry wailed incessantly as Martin tried, once again to get him to sleep. His sleep patterns had become more regular recently, but he was having a bad night. Martin himself was exhausted after last nights' developments.

"You know James, sleeping is good for you."

James momentarily paused upon hearing the sound of his father's voice, then started his head-splitting shrieks again.

"No...really. The body needs time to rebuild and repair itself."

James paused again. Martin decided that James Henry must find his voice soothing or at least interesting and so, in the interest of peace and quiet, he went on.

"Studies have shown that sleep deprivation correlates with earlier morbidity. I should note that a number of factors..."

* * *

An hour later, Louisa arrived home to a completely silent house. Instantly her motherly instincts went into gear.

Why was it so quiet?

Shouldn't Martin be stomping around or filing patient notes or yelling at someone?

Shouldn't a patient be complaining or Morwenna griping about how grumpy 'the Doc' was today?

Granted, it was a Saturday. No Surgery today, unless there was an emergency.

That _could_ be it! An emergency! They were common enough in Portwenn, and her husband naturally was always at the center of the action.

But Martin _always_ called these days to let her know if something came up, one of the improvements he had made after his change-of-heart on Sports Day.

Something must be wrong.

'Okay, don't panic Louisa, you're jumpin' to conclusions again, she thought.' Something Martin had, as gently as he could, suggested _she_ should work on.

Sure enough, as she rounded the corner, her panic faded away.

There sitting on the couch, head back, mouth open, eyes shut was Martin Ellingham, taking a well-earned nap. On his chest, sleeping soundly was her precious son James. Her two most favorite people in the world, her beloved family, the ones that counted when the going was tough, were lying there peacefully, _contentedly_. It was beautiful.

"Just, just stay right there," she whispered.

She tip-toed to the kitchen and found the camera she sometimes used to take photos of the school.

She pushed the 'Power' button and uncovered the lens, worried that even the tiny beeping sound the camera made as it turned on would wake up the slumberers in the next room.

Slowly, Louisa crept across the open space, not wanting anything to ruin this moment. She raised the camera to eye level and aimed it so the framing was just right. Her heart beat rapidly, though she mentally teased herself for getting so worked up over a simple family photo.

There was a knock at the door.

The camera whizzed and clicked, and there was a flash of light.

'Gotcha!'

Martin woke up, startled out of his wits. In his confusion he roused James Henry who predictably began wailing, yet again.

Amidst it all stood Louisa, grinning triumphantly as she reviewed her camera shot.

Perfect.

Martin quickly gathered his wits. His first inclination was to chew Louisa out, but he suppressed it. Taking a deep breath, he thought through the situation.

"Did you get the shot you wanted?" he said in a flat tone, trying unsuccessfully to display no irritation.

"Oh, look at it Martin,' Louisa cooed, a broad smile on her face as she showed him the picture on the camera's display. "You guys are _sooo adorable_."

Martin did not find a likeness of him sleeping sloppily, mouth agape particularly adorable. But his son was in the picture, and he was always a sight for sore eyes, so it didn't matter. And _Louisa_ liked it.

His lips curled into a small smile. He and Louisa traded affectionate glances.

Another knock on the door.

The couple snapped back to reality.

"I'll take James Henry," Louisa said softly. Martin nodded handing the child over.

He straightened his tie and dusted off his suit as he walked, somewhat stiffly to the front door.

He swung the door open.

Danny Steel stood on the front step of the Surgery.

His eyes seemed nervous, wary. Martin was sure he'd observed a gulp. Behind him a few meters away, stood an attractive dark-skinned woman.

The doctor pursed his lips. "Is this a medical problem?" he said in a disinterested, almost hostile tone.

"Well...no...not as such..." Danny sputtered out.

Martin moved to close the door.

"Wait...Doc!" Against his better judgment, Martin held the door slightly ajar.

"I...well I do have a chronic respiratory problem that I should probably have checked up on..."

Martin let out a displeased grunt. "But that's not why you came, _is it_?" he snapped.

"No. No it's not" Danny admitted. This wasn't turning out anything like the way he'd hoped.

Martin stepped onto the stone platform in front of the Surgery, closing the door quietly behind him.

He could feel a growing anger building inside him.

"Louisa and I are married now, _Danny_."

"Yes, I know."

"Then why did you come up here?"

Danny was quiet for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

If you think for a moment I'll let you walk through that door and inflict yet more pain on my wife to assuage your own guilt, you can...just..."

He'd never been particularly good at juicy insults. It was too bad, for there were few people he loathed more than vacillating, self-righteous Danny Steel.

Behind Martin the door opened. Louisa stepped out onto the step cradling James Henry in her arms. When she noticed Danny her teeth clenched, and a smoldering fire seemed to flair up in her eyes.

"Hello..Lou.." Danny said, awkardly, clearing sensing her hostility.

"_Louisa_" Martin corrected blandly.

Louisa nodded towards Martin affirming his correction.

There was a tense silence.

"Danny...why are you here?" Louisa finally said, deep bitterness in her voice.

"I'm here to apologize" Danny said, his voice quavering.

"I don't want your apologies!" she spat back at him. She suddenly felt guilty. No matter how bitter she was toward her self-centered former sweetheart, he didn't deserve such a rebuttal in the face of an attempt at an apology. "I've heard all your sweet talk before," she said, a bit more softly. "If you're expecting me to forge and forget, you have another think coming Danny. I love Martin. Together we have a beautiful child." She turned toward Martin, and her expression softened dramatically. "We're _happy_ together."

Martin felt his heart jump. He squeezed Louisa hand tight.

Surprisingly, Danny seemed to grow in confidence. It was as if Louisa's words had cleared away some of the nuances and issues clouding his words and thoughts.

"I understand. I don't expect you to forgive and forget, and I don't expect to restart our relationship, our friendship. After this, I'll be gone. You'll never hear from me again," he said.

'Good' Martin couldn't help but think. But Louisa sensed something different about the man. It wasn't the shallow, unsure, self-obsessed man she knew so well. Danny could recognize when he made a misstep, could make up for it, covering it up with grandiose demonstrations of repentance-a skill Martin, scrupulously honest and impossibly stubborn and unempathetic, struggled with. But there was always something in it for _Danny_.

"Louisa, Martin. I've wronged you in different ways. Louisa, I led you to rebuild a relationship with me, that crushed that relationship with my own greed and ambition. Though I can see good came of it, I think I caused you great pain at the time. Martin, I was jealous of you, and that jealousy led me to flaunt my reconnect with Louisa with public displays of affection, with self-righteous remarks, and with the insensitive suggestion that we had history."

Martin grunted.

"I also demeaned your abilities as a doctor, idiotically ignoring your medical advice, to the detriment of my mother, myself, and others who had to take care of me."

"Yes. Yes you did," Martin confirmed. Louisa elbowed him.

"An apology doesn't really cut it. I'm not sure anything does. But I do want to say that I am sincerely sorry."

He turned to the woman behind him. She gave him a small nod of encouragement.

"Let's go Valerie," he said in a wavering voice. It had taken a great deal to say what he'd said, and he felt drained. They walked back toward their car, parked next to Martin's Mercedes.

Louisa looked over at Martin, their hands still entwined. The expression of scorn that had been present a moment before had disappeared.

They read each other's eyes for a moment.

"You're right," martin eventually said, surprised at his ability to understand, for once, exactly what his wife was thinking.

She nodded with a small smile.

"Danny! Vanessa!" she called down the hill.

"Valerie," Martin corrected.

Louisa ignored him. She didn't want to argue with him, and more important things were on hand.

"Sorry! _Valerie_."

The couple stopped and looked back.

"You don't have to go!" she said.

Danny furrowed his brow. "Louisa...don't feel obligated to play nice. I didn't come here because I expected everything to be made right again or that you'd forgive me and that would be that. Frankly, I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Yes," Louisa said. "We know."

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**Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned for more!**


	16. Stories

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and aren't making any money off it._**

**Thanks again to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story. I deeply appreciate it!**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Stories**

Louisa took the kettle off the stove, a hot humid plume of steam rising from it, and turned to take it to the table.

To her surprise, only her two guests were at the table.

"Where did Martin run off to?" The man was disappearing far too often these days for her liking.

Danny and Valerie suppressed grins.

"What's so funny?" she asked, a bit offended at being mocked. Perhaps Danny really hadn't changed. Suddenly it occurred to her. "Is it...?" She lowered her voice to a whisper "Is it...his blood...thing?"

"I'll take that," Martin's deep voice said from behind her as he grabbed the kettle firmly from her hands. He sounded slightly perturbed.

"Oh..uhm...thank you Martin. I could have managed."

He gave her a small smile and whispered in her ear "Louisa?"

"Yes?" she whispered, her voice light with anticipation."

"You really should be careful with the kettle. I was a bit worried you would..ummm...scald yourself."

She drew away, her face full of shock.

"You were...umm...swinging it around." Danny and Valerie bit their lips, trying desperately not to laugh.

Then it clicked. Martin had gotten up to carry the kettle for Louisa. Louisa had turned toward the table, completely missing Martin, who was on her left. Afraid yet again she had 'lost' him, she had looked around frantically, apparently swinging the kettle in her absentmindedness.

Embarrassed, Louisa sat down, as Martin silently poured the tea.

"So..." Danny began, eager to change the subject. "What have you all been up to?"

"Not much really. I mean you know me and Martin started..."

"Courting," Martin said flatly.

"Well, it really wasn't courting, we never really got through a whole date..."

"You started seeing each other?" Valerie offered in an upper-class London accent.

"Yes," Louisa said, a bit surprised.

"Obviously a bit more than that happened."

"Well, yes. We umm...well...I called it off. Then we got engaged." Danny and Valerie were giving her puzzled looks. 'Umm yeah...and then we called things off on our _first _wedding day...there never really was a wedding that day...and I moved away."

"And then there's James," Martin was eager, for Louisa's sake not to dwell on London. It might be awkward, Danny having lived in London around the same time.

"Yes Martin, I was just getting to that point. Yes and I discovered in London that I was pregnant with ...um... our baby." She quickly gestured to Martin and herself.

"I moved back to Portwenn, and umm... had the baby. And then we got married."

Danny and Valerie looked stunned.

"Wow," Valerie said, putting down her cup.

"It is rather good isn't it. My aunt bought that for us last summer. Darjeeling from India or Nepal or...someplace."

Everyone stared at Martin.

Valerie smiled. "I actually meant the journey you two have been on. But you're right, the tea is wonderful."

Martin nodded stiffly and sat down.

Louisa smiled. "Now you've heard about us. What about you?"

Valerie and Danny looked at each other.

"Well," Danny began, breathing out rather deeply. "What you said, Louisa, in Portwenn...when you um...called things off."

"Yes?" Louisa said cautiously.

"It made me furious. I hated it, and honestly, I was pretty livid with you as well. I threw myself into my work, some facilities for the Olympics in the East End."

Louisa's eyes went wide. The Olympics had been a massive undertaking. They had been the hottest development project in London, in the entire country really-she'd been there as the final touches were put on them. Danny's contract must have been lucrative, prestigious. No wonder he had been excited about it.

"I was so bitter, so consumed with what you said, because I knew it was true. I was shallow, I was self-centered, and I didn't know where I was going in life. My priorities weren't straight. And I had lost you."

Louisa felt a knot in her stomach. It was extremely uncomfortable hearing these painful words from Danny, a man she had once cared for deeply. But there was little else there. She had no longing for him, no romantic in this man. He was just another tragic part of her past, an old friend with whom she had parted ways on unpleasant terms.

"I worked myself into a frenzy, ignoring Mart-...er...Doctor Ellingham's advice to take it easy and wear safety gear. I soon collapsed again, and this time I was in the hospital 4 months."

Danny's eyes narrowed a bit. Martin noticed the lines of care around the man's eyes. "There I lay, alone and miserable. I'd lost my job. I'd lost Louisa. I'd even lost my health."

Louisa wrinkled her brow. She couldn't help but think this was just a tale of woe, a conceited attempt by Danny to focus the spotlight on himself once again, make people pity him. 'Poor Danny, the martyr.'

It gave me a lot of time to think. I was kind of lost, you know, like a boat in uncharted waters in a fog. I really didn't know what I was doing with my life, what my purpose was." He looked up at them.

"But I finally came to a realization. Life really wasn't about me. It was about God."

Martin I strong desire to roll his eyes, get up from the table, and walk away. But he didn't. He couldn't.

More often then not recently he himself had felt like he was in uncharted waters. Raising a family. Wrestling with the pain of his past. Learning to love and live with the woman of his dreams, who doubled as the most incomprehensible person on the planet. He needed help, and he couldn't afford to be picky about the source.

Glancing at Louisa's face, he got the impression that she felt much the same way.

Danny looked at their faces cautiously.

"I know how you two feel about my...er...faith. I just want to say that before, I was a self-righteous idiot."

He sighed heavily.

"Jesus...God...Christianity...it's not just something you can just pull out to make you feel good sometimes or to prop up your own image. It's...it's for life. Our hearts are so utterly...selfish. We see it all the time. Our greed, even our basic, natural desires and needs, they just lead us to do terrible things, to hurt even those that we love most." He paused a moment, realizing how emotional he had become."

"Sorry...I'm getting a bit preachy here."

"Umm...no..um...carry on..." Martin insisted, albeit a bit stiffly.

"My point is, we can try our own fixes here and there, we can try to repair old friendships, bring our wives flowers, give money to kids in Africa, even go to church and sing in the band or choir. But in the end, we need something more. Only God can truly, in the end, fix the problem of our selfish hearts."

He smiled. "And that's what I realized laying there in that bed. I decided I wasn't going to live life for me any more. I was giving it over to someone greater than me."

The room was dead silent.

"Sooo...I've said quite enough, I think for one evening. I'd _really _like to hear about James here. Me and my wife..."

"Oh yes! Louisa said, wiping away a tear. "You never really told us about how you two met."

Martin tried not to look disappointed. He wasn't fond of these kind of stories. He often felt his own journey was...inadequate, a catalog of his failures-though Louisa suggested otherwise.

Danny, however beamed at Louisa's suggestion. He hadn't really wanted to tell his whole story, but he felt somehow like it needed to be said. "I'll let Valerie tell you about it."

The woman smiled shyly.

"Well...it all sort of started one day in the East End. I was in charge of community relations in a project to build a community center, but our architect had just quit, lured away to some site in CanaryWharf." She glanced at Danny. "I was trying to work out with the construction workers how this would set us back, when, out of nowhere this handsome man rides up out of a side street on his bike and starts chatting with the foreman about axial and compressive loads."

"I was afraid the roof was going to fall in," Danny remarked to laughter.

As Danny and Valerie relayed their story, full of its ups and downs, Martin suddenly realized how similar it was to their own.

Perhaps there was a purpose to things. Perhaps the sadness and pain of his own tale weren't the sadistic afflictions of a cruel and vengeful God after all. There was ugliness and hurt, but also beauty and bliss. Every part had it's purpose in a grander design, a breath-taking tapestry more intricate and wonderful than he could imagine.

He looked lovingly at Louisa. He had fixed several clocks over the years, carefully, painstakingly fitting the tiny gears and shafts together-not one could be out of place, or the entire machine would fail to work. But never had he met any one or anything as beautiful or delicate or complex than his wife.

As they settled into bed that night, Louisa looked him in the eyes.

"Martin, do you think what Dany said earlier, about their being a God and a Plan and all that...do you think that it's true?"

Her endlessly logical husband-Doctor Ellingham, the great physician, the man who said he 'dealt with nothing but bodies...I mean, people,' perhaps he might have some insight into the matter that had troubled her all evening.

Martin smiled in his won peculiar way. "I think," he said gently.

"I think the answer is lying right in front of me."


	17. Epilogue

**_Buffalo Pictures owns the "Doc Martin" TV series, and all credit goes to them and all the people who make the show what it is. _**

**_I don't own any rights to "Doc Martin," and aren't making any money off it._**

**Thanks again to those of you who have given me feedback on this story, both Visitors and Members, and those of you who have favorited and followed this story. I deeply appreciate it!**

* * *

**Epilogue**

Martin and Louisa of course came to the conclusion that there must be a Plan, though they still, like Roger, had their questions. I can't tell you what their final decision on that matter is, nor guarantee that the story of their love will end happily ever after.

I _can_ tell you that the Ellingham household is rumored to have become a much pleasanter place to be around, and that there have been an increase in sightings of the couple publicly displaying their affection. Almost every Sunday morning, the Ellinghams can be seen at St. Minver's Community Church where they are joined by Bert and Jennifer, Danny and Valerie and a growing number of others from Portwenn. Al and Morwenna, now going steady, often come as well, ostensibly as moral support. They can often be seen conversing with Pastor Dan Milligan or his wife. Al insists that this is simply relationship advice, but as for myself, I personally think the couple have an eye towards the future.

Speaking of the couple, Al (with Morwenna's help, of course) has finally managed to get his fishing resort started. Dr. Ruth reports that business is slow...but will likely pick up soon. Bert Large reputedly was the first customer.

Danny and Valerie Steel have since left London behind and moved to Portwenn, where both are involved in the Cornwall Council, the governing body for Cornwall. Together they have powerfully advocated for much-needed infrastructure and services to the northern Cornish coast. Danny currently is supervising the construction of a small Urgent Care facility in Bodmin. Together with Louisa, Valerie has set up a community center in Portwenn, with a thriving youth group for post-secondary adolescents. Radio Portwenn's "Home Improvement Hour" on Saturday mornings has become a fixture of life in the small village.

Penhale's contribution to Private Pruddy's case, as well as a decline in juvenile crime (simultaneous with the opening of the community center), led to his being offered a handsome promotion. To the surprise and consternation of many, Penhale declined. Agent Clear and DCS Hobbs submitted a joint report on Pruddy's case, entirely clearing him of wrongdoing. Predictably, Michael was acquitted and sent back to the United Kingdom. Here, a letter from Doc Martin submitting an official diagnosis of OCD and asserting the Army's duty-of-care, led to significant improvement in the young soldier's treatment.

As for Mike himself, he has since _officially_ resigned from the Army and is now an electrician in Portwenn. He sees a therapist several times a week and avoids rearranging other people's kitchens and desks as much as possible. Mr. Pruddy has also developed a deep and abiding love of writing, especially about the beautiful, good-hearted (if sometimes flawed), and extraordinary people of Portwenn. And who should know better than the writer himself?

-_Michael Graham_ _Pruddy_

**The End_  
_**

Afternote: As many of you may have guessed, St. Piran's harrowing experience resulted, much like this story, in a great deal of good. The man landed on the shores of Cornwall, where he established a new ministry, and, significantly for Cornish miners, he is said to have discovered the art of tin smelting.

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**Thanks again for reading! Let me know what you think.**

_A special thank you to:_ **fanficfan71**, **Boots1980**, **spottedhorse**, **Chapin**, **reallybodmin**, **BWagner60, P****etworth**, **Apl9662**, **Kumquat12**, **NYDMFAN**, **abbybuk**, **mia. **,** flora reodica**, **andithomas1** and others (including several **Visitors**) who have contributed by reviewing, spawning ideas and revisions, messaging, favoriting, and following the story as it progressed.


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